Before I finally left Florida, I would dream of leaving all the time.
I always found myself everywhere but my small, sleepy town stewing in the hot, humid sunshine.
I would find myself on the beach. Not my beach. Not the beach an hour up the road, but an ocean on the other side of the world. Bluer. Clearer.
I would find myself in urban sprawl, walking the streets. Seeking. Always seeking.
Now that I’ve left, my dreams have changed.
I don’t see the ocean. I don’t see the urban sprawl.
I’m back in that small, sleepy town. It takes a moment for me to realize where I am.
And when I do, I panic.