In my dreams I see myself packing and always packing. I could feel the excitement every time and it was all so real. Sometimes I even dreamt until I actually reached Heathrow airport, boarding the bus from London to Cardiff and see myself settling down in one of the houses in Floral Street (the one that I was supposed to move in with Mai, Aisya and Da during my second year in Cardiff but never did). In my dreams, it looks exactly the same, with the same white painted wall, the similar modern-like kitchen and the indistinguishable patio that I adored so much. I see my ex housemates helping me to unpack and I was all ready for school. I dream of the streets, the friendly locals, the parks, the shops, the Tescos, the butchers, the busses, the trains, the buildings, the high street, the restaurants, the dogs and bitches.
Last night it came into my dream once more. This time, Ali was supposed to send me to the airport and surprisingly, he looked very much ecstatic. Hmmm.. I wonder if it really makes him happy seeing me go. Or is it me that will actually feel delighted about leaving. The truth is, I miss Cardiff and I miss everything about it. I want to go back to those days when I call myself a university student. Back then, I was so free that I couldn’t care less. I didn’t have to bother if my hair is well done, I didn’t have worry about having to dress up, fret about driving around and concern about getting fat. I really didn’t have to. I learned how to cook and clean, I learned about mending my own bank affairs, I gained knowledge on a lot of things that I never thought I would get to know about. My mother followed me to school for all my first-days of registration until I graduated from high school. My mother goes to the bank to open an account for me or even depositing money into my own account. See how spoilt I was? See why I cherish the experiences in Cardiff so much?
And so I kept dreaming, that i kept packing and i kept boarding the bus, and i kept seeing the same house in my dreams.