We're about four months away from setting foot on my family's original homeland;my Dad would be happy about that. I'm dreaming about wide open, green spaces. Hills that gently roll down to meet a frothy, cold sea, blue-grey sky and salty breezes. I hear music, too. It's a kind I've never heard before yet it almost sounds familiar. There are smells, too. Peat fires, fish, potatoes and Guinness. Oh, I get it... I've been dreaming of Heaven.
I wonder if others dream like I do. My dreams are vivid and often exhausting. I predict they will become more so between now and June, but when my boots finally hit Irish soil, the dreaming will stop. That's how it was with England. I dreamed of castles and bogs and mountains and pints with great clarity until we landed in Manchester and then the dreams stopped. I suppose my brain was filled with so many incredible images, the dreams didn't have any room to build.
For now, I will happily settle for my Irish dreams. I wonder how they will compare to the real thing. I was excited about our English Coast to Coast to be sure, but this anticipation is different. I am anxious to smell Ireland, to touch it and know my family once did the same. There's something of a visit with the past about this trip that stirs the mind differently than other adventures.
What's waiting for us?
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