again, and again.

For a period in my life, at a rate of once every few months, I had a recurring dream. I don't know if it fits the proper definition of a recurring dream, because I wasn't dreaming the exact same dream every time. Rather, the dream always had the same theme. It was before, during, and after the year I spent teaching English in the southernmost province of the People's Republic of China, and my residence in that country was always a major factor in the dream.

The dream's theme was this: I'd be having a normal day, teaching classes or simply going about the day-to-day routine of living in China, when suddenly I'd decide to leave. The decision was always impromptu, and always immediately executed: I'd never tell anyone I was leaving, I wouldn't bother to pack, I'd just find some manner of transport away from where I was, get to the airport, and get on a plane. It wouldn't be until the decision was irreversible that I would stop to think what I'd done. Sometimes I'd realize the gravity of the situation while on the plane, sometimes it wouldn't be until after I'd landed, and sometimes I'd land in strange and random cities (once it was New Orleans). But once I realized what I'd done, and that I couldn't undo it, I'd panic, and that's about when I would wake up. Now, a few years hence, the symbolism is pretty transparent: my decision to go to China was somewhat rash, I never really prepared for it, and I had made a commitment to staying for the whole year, even though, for the bulk of my time there, I'd have preferred to do exactly what I did in my dream.

This morning I was disturbed to wake up from a dream with a similar theme, albeit with a different outcome. In my dream, I came to Santa Barbara and started the diving program, but then realized I'd also signed up for classes at a school in Florida. The disturbing bit: I just got up and drove to Florida. No packing, no telling anyone I was going, just getting into my car, and going to Florida to head to school. Once there, I found my way to my classes (strangely, all pertaining to French language and culture), and even met up with my old SJU friend Noah Whiteman, a fellow student on my French study abroad program. At some point though, I realized that I didn't want to be studying French anymore, that I didn't want to be in Florida, that I wanted to be back in Santa Barbara, studying diving, and so I returned. When I awoke, a bit of the old, familiar sense of slight panic was still holding on, but there was also a sense of relief, for the end result.

Significant? More than I can say. I still question what I'm doing here. I still question how the hell this is all going to work out when it still feels as though so many major pieces of the puzzle are still hidden somewhere under the couch cushions. I'm still trying to find validation that this is the right thing for me, that I made the right decision, that this isn't all the most colossal mistake I've ever made. A friend once told me how much she doubted moving to a new city, and going to law school, how she thought that any decision worth making always, always raises significant questions/ doubt/ worry, and that this, however confusing and counter intuitive, is the feeling of having made the right decision.

I'm holding on to this, and hoping that it's true.