The (end of a) dream

It's like this every time I come home now. Except for the suitcases of ME laying unabashedly open, strewn around the house, nothing changes.

I told A that it was as though I had awoken from a dream. His response was jokingly curt and to the point " I mean ... (br) you went to Japan (br) for 2 months (br) with your bf (br) paid by Harvard (br) to dance everyday." I guess it doesn't get more dream-eque than that.

And as my toes hit the hardwood floor of my living room and my brother and sister run around yelling at each other while getting in my way I realize I am not in dreamland anymore.

Oh well, off to the beach.