In a dream, something compelled me to suddenly travel to Thailand. Not knowing what awaited, I’d already arrived at the airport. For luggage I brought a backpack and a small duffel bag, what used to be the standard equipage before I’d scaled down to just, or nearly just a backpack.
Nothing in the choice of destination puzzled me, being the first country of any authentic solo travel I’d ever undertaken. More puzzling were the contents of my baggage.
Once at the check-in counter … well, bear in mind that the notions of packing and online check-in don’t typically concern the dreamworld … At least my dreamworld. It follows, in one autonomous swoop, my urge to flee Thailand-bound placed me swiftly at the counter.
As I was saying, once there, it became immediately clear that both my baggage items weighed next to nil.
The backpack was entirely empty. The duffel bag felt nearly so, though once opened, the contents presented a disappointing six or seven flashy designer T-shirts that I’d not wear to even the infirmary, and one small electric heater.
Nothing else could I find: not a single other passable article of clothes, no electronics, no book, no contact lens solution, no hunting knife.
I faced a choice. Depart nearly empty handed? … Armed exclusively with what I wore and the electric heater (should I ever find myself at the 900-meter altitude coffee plantation, where the climate might fall below +25C … and probably face incompatible voltage parameters)?
Or return to fill the bags with items of greater utility, though almost inevitably miss the flight?
My remembrance of the dream stops there, though I believe I’d leaned towards proceeding with the flight as is. On the grounds of severe nerve trauma, evidenced by the most singular luggage, I could’ve probably appealed for a fee-waived itinerary adjustment. And yet I’d likely opted to take the first maneuver.
I’d add that I absolutely loath shopping, though such matters take all the piss out of the philosophical conundrum.
On the flip side, I adore the sensation of lightness, in every sense conceivable … To contrast the daunting exposition of superfluity each day seems to present: objects in the line of sight, food excess, waste, noise, malignant thoughts, complaints (let’s start with my own), emotional energy sinks.
The relentless urge to shed haunts even my dreams.
Questions, comments? Connect.