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Posted: December 16, 2023
I used to dream about storage space, even before I had to worry about it. Those dreams were magical and fun, so I want to revisit them. Take a stroll down memory lane with me!
I walk around my apartment, and suddenly -- to my great surprise -- I find a Narnia-like door that leads to a completely new room. All of this extra space that I always longed for was there all along. What a delightful surprise.
Except that it was a dream. Not just a dream, but many, many dreams for as long as I remember.
Yes, even as a child that didn't have to worry about storage space, I was dreaming about discovering new rooms, or waking up in different houses. Excitedly thinking that I woke up in the house of my French family. It always felt exhilarating, like finding an oasis. Or how adult me would define it: a world in which I don't have squish the sieve behind the instant pot.
Tragically, very recently, those dreams just stopped - just slipped between my fingers. I kinda miss them, so I want stroll down memory lane to revive some of those memories.
I have often wondered where these dreams came from: as a child, I don't remember ever wanting for space -- as a student I didn't even have space to store my own suitcase. When my partner and I were appartment hunting this spring I made the same joke an embarrassing number of times: that the storage space is larger than my first student room.
And I wasn't lying!! It was 7 m^2, including a built in cupboard and a slanted wall (because it was under the roof). There was no room for a desk. I had this IKEA bed that filled the whole room once you converted it into a double bed.
This is how I remember it, my magical cupboard, my first time moving out of my parents' house!! Every move was fabulous in its own way. The next one, I got my own bathroom. The move after that, I got to live in a studio. The one after, I moved in with my boyfriend.
Until finally, we bought our own apartment. In my dad's words, "un palais!". A true oasis of space. It feels strange to be living my dream - having space to let the sieve and the instant pot have a breather.
Thinking about those dreams makes me happy, though. Excited for me-of-the-past, if that makes sense.
I wonder what, when the dream returns, will be behind the magical door. Maybe a cleaner? We still need to get used to all the extra surfaces we need to clean. Adult dreams are weird sometimes.
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