Paris premonition

Last night I dreamed that my husband took me to a French island off the coast of Normandy (and no, it was not England). It was warm and beautiful and everyone had cocktails with umbrellas in them. We had to buy stamps so I confidently marched up to the post office desk (cocktail in hand) and requested stamps fearlessly and fluently.
"C'est possible que j'ai le postage?" (translated roughly from retard French..It is possible that I have the postage?) I said alluuuuuuuringly...all the right words magically spilling from my suddenly fluent tongue. And in the glorious world of my dream where I am fluent in French and tropical islands exist off the coast of Normandy, the jovial postal worker replied "OUI! BIEN SUR!" and proceeded to jump across the desk to give me a hug along with my stamps. My husband immediately did the old school/over-exaggerated movie laugh and was so impressed with me that for the rest of the dream he spoke to me only in French. I didn't have the heart to tell him in my dream that the "magical fluency" apparently did not extend to actually understanding French. So we walked along the beach hand in hand, sipping cocktails and marveling at the waves as I listened to the music of his French sending me even further into dreamland.

It was nice for just a moment to drop the panic of moving to Paris and let the joy in. If only for a moment in my dream.
Today I woke up smiling.

Mon mari

J'aime mon mari if you were curious.
He rules and just told me stories about the beautiful French Alps to make me feel better about uprooting my life and he promised me I won't be the quiet girl cause everyone likes to talk to me, even if I don't understand what they are saying.
And then he smiled at me and kissed me and suddenly the world was a little brighter and a baguette and some cheese sounded better than Spaghetti-Os.
Hm.

Realite

Four cups of coffee, restless sleep, stomache ache for two days, head spinning, overwhelmed and freaked out.

I bought a non-refundable, no exchange, no change one way ticket to Paris. And it hit me like a ton of bricks to the face. I am moving December 26th at 9:10PM via Air India. Carry me away from my home, family and friends amidst saris and curry. Note to self: bring a sandwich for the plane. Curry might not be a good idea that day.

I cleaned everything in my apartment and put it all at right angles. Order is good. Impending change...change is bad change is bad, no, no change is good change is good....breathe....just because you went to a dinner party with French friends last night and understood nothing doesn't mean that you will understand nothing in France. Um, actually, yes it does. Ok, ok, ok, ok....breeeeeeeathe. So it will take you a while to learn an entire language. Maybe years. Maybe a lifetime! I'm from New Jersey, how can I possibly learn an entire language? What if I'm suddenly the QUIET girl, the girl that doesn't speak because she can't communicate. My mouth has been going since I was born, now I will be silenced? That girl in the corner no one talks to whose husband works all day while she slowly goes insane in a one room apartment with a bitchy French cat who can't stand her cause she renamed her Snowball and tried to hug her while she fell apart crying cause she missed her friends and instead got a claw to the face. The hungry girl in the corner who hasn't eaten in three days cause she's too scared to try and order a sandwich again cause the guy behind the counter was mean.

But I'm not afraid. Yes I am. Today I am afraid. So I'll feel afraid right now and then let it go cause maybe tomorrow I will wake up and feel like my bad ass self again. The wonderfully charming musician who loves people and loves to throw a party. The self confident artist who is curious about the world. Not the freaked out Jersey girl who just wants her Mom to make her a Spaghetti-Os sandwich on Wonder Bread and call it a day.

Breathe.