Some of my most vivid dreams are of roads, winding through towns unknown and terrain mysterious. Over and over again I get lost driving them. I’m always trying to find “the place”.
Once, years ago, I found it. In my dream I got out of the car, looked around, and felt myself lighten of my subconscious burdens. I felt relieved for years, and hadn’t once dreamed of those winding roads leading nowhere.
But I’ve been driving again. Still lost, still looking. And maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe we’re supposed to keep moving through life, keep searching for “the place”. Because maybe “the place” is an ever-changing thing. Or many things.
Where is the fun in never getting lost? Where is the passion in contentment? What is worth having if you haven’t first ached for it?
That's where I am again, I suppose. And while I think I should be frustrated over it, I'm not. I know it is necessary. I have found "the place" before, and I will find it again. These roads all lead somewhere. And I am the one driving them, after all. I am in control. The only difficult part is not knowing where I am headed. But that's what's fun about the journey, isn't it?
