is a dream a lie if it don’t come true, or is it something worse?

So I won’t be going to the Falklands. There are a number of reasons, mostly to do with cash and the expense of getting myself across the Pacific and then halfway across the Atlantic. I could spend a lot of cash getting myself to Stanley and I think that would be worthy but it would mean that just about every other dream would have to be set aside for some time, and not just my dreams but the dreams of my chilluns and DrSternlove.

I do need a dream though; the Falklands have kept me going as the carrot for quite some time now. What do you do when a wave of hope crashes down and the water that’s kept you afloat becomes a current dragging you down into the murky depths? I guess I find another dream. I could (for example) spend the next two years preparing for an expedition to Bouvet Island or Clipperton Island or planning to trek across the Andes. But they feel just as unlikely and expensive as the Falklands, if not more so.

All the work and all the time as got to be for something, not just an unspecified continuation of daily life. The question is which something am I working for?


About rustichello

A rather too quiet fellow of little reknown.
This entry was posted in domesticity, things belonging to the emperor and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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