The problem with dreaming.

What happens when your dreams come true?

I first came to Paris two years ago. I came as a dreamer, excited and full of life. I wanted the adventure of exploring a new city. I wanted to witness the latest fashions trotting down the runway. I wanted to live in the seventh arrondissement and wink at the Eiffel Tower everyday. I wanted to buy fresh flowers from the street market. I wanted to drink wine and champagne for no reason or occasion at all. I wanted to smell the fresh smells of croissants baking as I strolled down the boulevards. I wanted to see operas and ballets. I wanted a simple and beautiful life.

I got all those things and so much more.
I was one of the lucky few. I made a plan to leave everything familiar and comfortable in favor of an adventure. An opportunity to study and think and imagine other possibilities. I came in search of a passion that I so desperately desired. To shed the skin of the person I was.

I’ve lived my years as a traveler.
I’ve lived my years as a flaneuse.
I’ve lived my years as a dreamer.

I earned the degree. I got the job. I found my darling Mr. Pugsley. I filled my life with beautiful things. I’ve had remarkable experiences and seen amazing things.

What could be the problem?

As the lust for exploring goes away and the overwhelming longing for putting down roots takes over, I ask myself ” Where does a girl go from here?”

Home, to the people she cares about ? A new city, for another new adventure?

When that old familiar stirring hits again… as it does every time… it means there is a change coming.

It was my dream to live in Paris – In my beautiful idea of Paris. The reality of Paris is a small cramped apartment with paper -thin walls, deplorable plumbing, meals I can’t afford, a depressing (and smelly) metro commute and working myself to the bone for a few coins a month.

When the dream becomes a reality. The reality ruins the dream.

Is today the day that dreaming ends ?

Hope not.