When I was younger, I used to dream of a city. Not some huge, sparkling towered city… but a simple little town nestled against the mountains.
They say our dreams reflect all of the things that we have seen at some point in our life. If that’s true, then it would stand to reason that at some point I’ve stood on the cliff looking down over this town.
But the mountains were unfamiliar, the valley was golden, not green. The cliffs were red, not granite. I had never experienced open, rolling plains like were in the valley. Even the layout of the city was unfamiliar. What my brain inserted was the shops and houses, but my unconscious had nothing to do with the detail of the map.
I hunted for years, trying to figure out of such a city existed. When Google Earth rolled out, I utilized the street views to try and find it.
To this day, I have not located this city. I was hopeful a few years ago. We took a trip out west and I just KNEW fate would lead me there. I had my eye set on Missoula. Good sized university in the right place, hills to one side… it was not Missoula. My city might still be in the land of the big sky… but we did not find it.
It’s been a long time since I visited. It used to be recurring, every time I was there I just KNEW. I miss it, I’m nostalgic for the streets I would walk down. I’d like to see the old farm house again that sat just outside of town. Maybe the next time I visit, it will be real.