I had a really vivid dream I wanted to set down here before I forget it.

I dreamed that Steve and I just threw caution to the wind and moved to England. I don’t know what we were doing for money, but I remember an omnipresent feeling of anxiousness that lasted for the whole dream. I think that we had a large amount of money, but I was not quite sure it was enough to settle us there. For instance, we were buying this grand old house, but we weren’t paying cash. We were paying down something like half of the cost of the house, which meant we still needed to work to make payments. Our home was a beautiful brick home. I can’t remember that it was in the Tudor style, but something like it.

I remember being confused by how much things cost and couldn’t tell if they were expensive or not, which made me more anxious. We went to Starbucks, for instance (I assume Starbucks has just about circumnavigated the globe at this point), and I remember that the price of our usual coffee was fairly high. I told myself at the time that I just didn’t get the pound-dollar conversion. Oh, and Chris Daughtry was our barrista, but I guess that’s weird in its own right.

I got a job teaching English, and my students couldn’t understand me well because of my Southern accent. I tried to make jokes about it, but they were a dour lot and didn’t smile.

I have no idea where the kids were. They weren’t in the dream.

I think if I had a real chance, I probably would really move to England, but I think what the dream was telling me (in some way) is that such a move would be fraught with anxieties I hadn’t thought about. I also remember Steve wasn’t worried at all.