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I am a dreamer, I always been and always will be. I am 42 years old, soon 43, I have a son, unfortunately only one, I wish I met his father earlier to have at least 2, 4 would have been perfection.

I always dreamed to be a mother, my dolls were my babies, I had an imaginary friend and baby when I was a child, but then I thought it would never happened until I was 39 years old.

I often imagined, as a child, the day I would get married. That was before deciding that no, I would never get married. But that’s another story.

Often my dreams collide with reality. There is little to do this is it, I take refuge, often when I wake up at night, in my dreams like when I was a child, it is a way to preserve my mind, my unconscious, my soul. I cut out moments in which life, as Vasco Rossi, an Italian singer says, “When life was easier and you could also eat strawberries, because life is a thrill that flies away. It’s all a balance over madness above madness.”

Everything is a question of balance and sometimes it takes very little for it to falter, like when you walk suspended on a thread and think you are falling.
Never show your weaknesses, tears, grief, the famous poker face. You swallow the bitter morsel, it could be work related, a betrayal, words said on purpose to hurt you, you swallow the pain because even if it is not good, you will never give to others the satisfaction of showing your pain, your tears, your delusion and disappointment. There is not even point to talk because they will not understand you and your feelings. So like when you were a child, when you are alone, when the house is asleep and there is silence, you dream that something, not everything is different, easier more than different, because being an adult is tiring and sucks. And soul get peace.

Then there is the wonder you see in your son’s eyes for simple things, like a stone for example, to put in the tractor and carry it around or when he gives you those sweet kisses and tells you “I love you mummy”, this is one of my dreams, the Dream that has come true, but that also brings with it concerns for the future, because that dream is everything for you.

It is a period of profound turmoil, of sadness, of fear. Fear of not being able to go back to having a pre-Covid-19 life.
Fear of not having time to go home, 2 hours and 45 minutes flight, but no matter what you will never be in time, and this thought is digging deep inside my head.
Time is a dream, time is a luxury that today’s life does not allow us to have.
I dream to live in an isolated house in the countryside, a brick house that looks like my house in the mountains, where I spent my childhood and also my adult life. The smell of the fireplace, the dog’s barking, the crowing of the rooster, simplicity, the cold autumn with the fireplace lit, the snow crunching, while walking under your feet. Sometimes I dream of this, living in the countryside, with dogs and animals, a kitchen where is always working, and I m cooking . I will keep dreaming because my soul rests and relaxes.

I could carry on and on writing all my dreams that help me, what will make me happier and give me joy but would ended up of boring you to death.

Just one the last one, a game that now I try to play with my son. When I was little, 6 or 7yrs old and used to go to my parents bed to have my mum reading for me, in the winter and fascinated by the Orient Express, I used to ask mum to play the game that her bedroom was a vagon lit, and we were travelling around the world, she would have read me something and I would fell asleep…

“Stars shining bright above you
Night breezes seem to whisper “I love you”
Birds singing in the sycamore tree
Dream a little dream of me. Say “Night-ie night” and kiss me
Just hold me tight and tell me you’ll miss me
While I’m alone and blue as can be
Dream a little dream of me”