People say that dreams often represent the desires of the subconscious mind.
When I was at my old job, it was more like "torment of the subconscious mind" - I would dream about not finding an editor, or perpetually filling out the project forms on that special project management software we used!
Now, however, I find myself dreaming about Amakusa.
It's never a memory, always a return. I've just arrived, and I haven't told anyone that I'm there to visit. It's always a surprise. This is not a recurring dream, however -- it's always different. One day, I'm visiting the 711 that was by my apartment and the family that runs it; another day, I'm headed to the sushi bar, excited to see my adoptive Japanese "dad".
The reason I find this so strange is that these dreams only started up a few months. At least once a week. Of course I've wanted to go back and visit since...well...basically, the time that I came back to the States. That said, I've been so busy that my day-time musings of Japan have been short, though I use Japanese on a daily basis.
It's not hard to say what I miss the most: people, hands down. It wasn't a tourist trip for me, nor did it have the finite boundaries of a study abroad. The people I connected with - my students, neighbors, coworkers, friends - were what made Amakusa great.
Living the small-town life - and I mean really living it, not just being a student at a university in a tiny town (though I did that, too!) - gave me a different perspective on life all together.
I used to have high hopes and expectations for myself as a kid, the kind of student that killed all but my math classes, ate, slept, and wept academics and high gpas. Though taking Japanese language in college was a reality check for me (honestly, I think the only thing I've ever struggled more with is Calculus), I was still a go-getter throughout college for the most part. I had a clear plan: Graduate, do JET 1 year, go to Grad School, Pass Go, Collect $200 plus Salary and Benefits.
I look back now and think, "Damn, I was a machine." In Amakusa, however, life was simple. I went to work at my small school, went home, did some pottery or shamisen with the local teachers, went home, ate dinner, went to sleep. On weekends, I saw my friends. My job wasn't glorious - it was often frustrating, but what job isn't? However, the interactions I had with my students, with the people around town, gave me a joy that I think I didn't truly appreciate until now.
Growing up, I had aspirations to be a lawyer, a psychologist, a professor - something grander than what I was doing in Amakusa. There was always an anxiety that came with that, an anxiety I still feel when I think about it. But now, dreaming of Amakusa, it makes me wonder: would living a simple life be bad? Is it wrong to want to do less than I know I'm completely capable of? I think it's just fine for other people, so why not myself?
In any case, I never thought I would have ended up in a place as small and sleepy as Amakusa, but I would never take it back. Hopefully, I'll be visiting soon.
