I’ve had this recurring dream off and on for the last 4 or 5 years.

It’s fall. Because there are yellow and red leaves littering the yard, street, and walkways. Halloween is near, I know, as the pumpkins on the porch tell me so. The porch is amazing. Wrap around, white, wide, and it holds chairs and a porch swing made to love. The house is a two-story Victorian style, painted a light dove grey. I know the layout the same way I know my name. And I know it’s in Connecticut.

I’ve never been to Connecticut. But I know this house is there.

The dream isn’t long. It isn’t complicated. But the feelings it evokes in me are intense.

I love this house. I am happy in this house. My kids adore this house. We have amazing memories in this house. We’ve baked pies and decorated cookies in its kitchen. The kids have played in the yard with its perfectly white fence surrounding them. The dogs (of which I do not currently have) have laid on the porch by my side, while the kids and I are waving hello to the neighbors. There is a man who I love there, and I know he loves me. There is a room dedicated to art, and writing, and music. And the walls hold the faint sound of a thousand nights of laughter.

I never dream any of that. I just know it’s all there when I have the dream.

In the dream it’s night. The kids, the man I love, and I are rushing down the pathway to the car, as we have big plans to see the small town fall festival. I feel the bite in the breeze. I see the leaves on the ground. I feel the crunch of them under my feet. I think about how we as a family will rake them up the following afternoon, and have leaf fights and laughs, followed by sipping hot cocoa on the porch. I glance back at this house, see the lights on in the living room windows, and cannot believe how beautiful and amazing my life is.

And then I wake up. I never see faces. I don’t know the man’s name. I don’t know the town’s name. I am just filled to the brink with happiness and love. And then I cry. Because I had to wake up. And it’s not that I’m sad with my life as it is. I love my life. I love the memories I’ve made. I’m not sad that I don’t know who the man is.

I just ache that I haven’t found that place yet.

The dream just makes me want to find all of that sooner. It makes me feel like it’s out there. Waiting for me to find it.