The night before last I had a dream that my house burned down as I frantically attempted to gather the items I wanted, needed, not to lose in the flames.
Last night I dreamt I was in London. I dreamt that I wandered about past buildings and through art galleries and tube stations, marvelling, remembering it with excitement akin to that of a small child. Everything was wonderful.
These two dreams, both immensely vivid and full of emotion seem to summarise to me what moving to London means, like two bookends. The first one demonstrates the difficulty of taking with me only a few things, and none of the most important things: the people I love. I have pondered on this over the past few weeks, realising with an intensity that increases as the time gap decreases between now and then, how much it will hurt me to be away from my family, from my friends, from the five extraordinary and magic children that are my niece and nephews. These people, all of them, with who I have relationships that are full of history and love, these are the onesarhat make me want to stay in Adelaide. They are the ones that make me question my decision. Leaving behind friends who are better than any another person could have does seem to perhaps signify some kind of insanity.
But then, when I think about my second dream, the one full of excitement, I know I cannot go back. London will be full of things I remember and things I don't, of new experiences, new people, new life.
What I hope, what I believe, is that these friends so dear to me will not be as distant to me as Adelaide is to London. I hope my llove for them will keep them always close. For how can I do without Pen's sense of humour, Bethany's understanding, Jack's eloquence, Reuben's hugs and the rest? I can't.
I can only find a way to take them with me.