Dreaming of Home Essay -- Personal Narrative Descriptive Dreams Essays

pipe dream of HomeEveryday, after waking up, I realized that I had been stargaze about home again. I lay staring at the hood for a moment or two. Then, dragging myself from the bed, I walked to the window and threw stretch the curtains. The wide open space of the New Mexico high desert stared foul blankly at me. The cobalt blue skies, peach colored Sandia Mountains and undated waves of sagebrush and juniper stood in stark contrast to my dreamscape. For the past eight-spot years, my first view of the day was this one. But today was different. Today, I was handout home.I grew up in Dublin in the 1970s. To catch how that wrought the person I am today, you have to understand something about Ireland at that time. It has been said by someone a lot more insightful, and perchance more cynical than me, that the 1960s didnt reach Ireland until about 1975. So I grew up in a time of great change, w present the old amicable norms were being challenged and cast aside. Of course, in my growing years, I didnt al commissions understand this. I viewed Dublin through the eyes of a child. I direct a fairly sheltered existence, the eldest of seven children. My parents were country volume and had moved here after the birth of my first sibling, Paul. My father worked in the construction industry and construction jobs were much more plentiful here than in the backwaters of Wicklow where he was born and bred. My mother was from the West, born in County Clare and was the girl of a farm laborer. Her father, Patrick Murray, had moved where the work was too, and had ended up cave in and eventually retiring in Wicklow. This was where my parents met and where I had come into being. Our days in Dublin were regularly punctuated by trips to the country to visit my gr... ... We were old friends and lovers, reading that what it was to know one another again and tentatively finding our way back into each others lives. I still love Dublin, but I realize now that I love it despite itself and not because of itself. I think, perhaps, that is how its always been.And a strange thing happened.I awoke one aurora to find myself back in my bedroom, back in New Mexico. My married woman lay sleeping beside me, lost in her own dreams. The house was quiet. I walked once more to the window and opened those curtains. The room was immediately change with warm, brilliant sunlight. The sky was that same fantastic shade of blue and the Sandia Mountains glistened as ever in the early morning light. I gazed out across the waves of sagebrush and juniper and realized I had not dreamed of home. looking at back to where my wife lay sleeping, I realized I was home.