Tread softly

I am done with the American dream for a while. It was Dom's dream anyway - and a beautiful one for what that is worth. But it is exhausting trying to make dreams reality, when everything conspires against us. I have put work and study on hold in order to focus my energy and money on this one thing, but I should have realised that if it was meant to be it would have come easier than this, would not have required such sacrifices.

But when you love someone you try and give everything you have to realise their dreams. Now I sit and type and watch my beloved wolf who is flaked out on the bed, drained of energy and hope. It is easier for me, I don't have children who miss me and I am used to this rootless gypsy existence. But he will learn or I will learn to let him go.

After a pause to let the windblown leaf of my imagination settle, I can go back to the British Council jobs board and consider my options in a concrete way - the Middle East, Sri Lanka, or back to Bangkok. Or possibly I should do that PGCE that I have been promising myself for years. The world is ours, as long as it is not (currently) America.

Thus the clarity of my new header. I am focusing on Northern Thailand right now.

I am so sorry Dom, I trod on your dreams.

He Wishes for the Cloths of Heaven

Had I the heaven's embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

William Butler Yeats