…and my childhood house. I don’t think there’s been a night in the last three years that I haven’t dreamed of my old town, and my old house. It’s a part of me that was suddenly stripped away in the middle of a high-stress time of my life. I think moving had a big impact on my brain and led to feelings of depersonalization/derealization.
Literally I dream about it every night, it’s like my psyche needs to be back home so badly that it found a way to pretend like I was.
Anyways, if you didn’t know, I am going back home in a week. First time since I moved in 2013.
I can’t even express how much this trip means to me, because I feel like it will really stabilize me and kick off my 20s in the right direction.
