I have had some dreams lately about my friends from Europe, and it makes me wistful.
Wistfulness seems to me to be impervious to happiness; even when content, still, it comes wanting more. My dream was a warning that the factors are shaping up for me not to go to Oktoberfest this year, although my honest desire is to do so. I want to get back to Europe; I want to see my German and French friends, especially. It would also be a good birthday present. My birthday this year is convenient, I suppose: I feel I am in a period of fundamental transition.
I had wondered for years how to invoke a self-actualization that never occurred and that I feared was not merely delayed, but missed. I feel like I am now on this precipice.
And so I ask: How crazy am I to assume such knowledge of the future?
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