Ever since embarking on our house-hunting adventure, I have, predictably, been having quite a lot of dreams about real estate. And the fact that I’ve spent so little time in the flat we’re buying (a total of about 10 minutes, two months ago) has provided a lot of fuel for my fevered imagination to come up with all sorts of crazy scenarios as to what living in this new place will actually be like.

Not all of the dreams are stressful; several weeks ago, I dreamed that when we moved in, we realized our flat was so huge that we needed to buy lots more furniture to fill it up (yeah, like that’s gonna happen…). But most of the dreams are, understandably, more on the anxious end of the emotional scale.

A while back, I dreamed that when we moved in, we found out that our flat opened onto our neighbor’s flat, and I was desperately trying to figure out how we could build a wall between our flat and his. And last night, I dreamed that we lived at the top of a hill in the middle of a forest, and the movers had shown up to take our stuff to our new flat, but we hadn’t packed anything yet and we didn’t have the keys to our new flat, and I had to run down the hill to take our stuff back out of the moving van, but our stuff had gotten mixed up with someone else’s stuff and the only things in the moving van were horribly cheesy paintings of heavy metal bands (seriously).

I expect as we get closer to actually moving, both my sleeping and waking thoughts will become even more anxiety-ridden. I’m not looking forward to this, but I am increasingly looking forward to getting into our new place. We have a lot of work and stress ahead of us, and I probably have a lot of bad dreams ahead of me, but I think that once we can kick back in our own little garden with a nice glass of wine on a summer’s evening, it will all be worth it.