I have a recurring dream about trying to reach a destination and struggling to get there. Sometimes this dream happens in a massive, fun-house-like hotel with levels that don’t connect, moving staircases, and elevators that shoot off into other places. Other times it happens in a vacation area. I’m on the beach or in the mountains or a city trying to connect with a loved one, and my journey becomes a maze as elements shift and change and I can’t quite get there.

I wake up from these dreams sweaty and agitated. They don’t exactly feel like nightmares, but they’re definitely unpleasant. They leave me with a lingering sense of frustration and longing and a little scared. (I have a huge fear of getting trapped in an elevator.)

I’ve been reflecting on change a lot lately. Sometimes I actually like change. I get bored if things stay the same too long. I have enough high sensation-seeking in me that I crave novelty. I love trying a new restaurant, watching a movie I’ve been wanting to see, traveling and soaking in the sights/sounds/people/places. Even rearranging some furniture gives me that tingle of freshness. 

I realize - these are all changes I can control. They are novelties I get to pick and decide when and where and how to explore them. 

I adore this kind of newness.

Then, there’s another kind of change. The kind that happens when you’re looking the other way. 

When the world feels bleaker than usual, I get into reading dystopian novels. There’s something about escaping into an even more difficult world that’s appealing. I can wholeheartedly focus on how these other people are trying to survive and adapt in incredibly difficult circumstances. At least it’s not that bad here, I tell myself as I lean into perspective-taking and distraction.