It took four agonising months to tear myself away from my life in Rome. I was living my dream and I couldn’t get my head around abandoning it. The knowledge that I was returning to a whole world of difficulties – my father’s illness, looking for a job, loneliness – didn’t help. But it was knowing that, compared to my Roman existence, my life at home was mostly monotone scattered with the occasional high notes, that filled me with dread.

The biggest question was, what do I do now that I have actually realised my dream? I had dared to dream the impossible dream (thank you Andy Williams, Man of La Mancha, and the Honda ad) and make it a reality. What was left? Had I already peaked? Could the rest of my life ever compete with the thrill I had just experienced?

“Just get a new dream” you may be thinking.

But it’s not that easy. It’s not like there’s a dream tree somewhere you can walk up to and pick the juiciest looking ambition. Is there a catalogue of dreams I’m unaware of – a colourful brochure with dog-eared pages spruiking the features and benefits of this dream or that? 

For years I was convinced I had no dream at all and I bore that absence as a shortcoming, a fault in my character. So “getting” a new dream after accidentally discovering the old one seemed hopeless.

My life didn’t fall apart after I returned to Australia, obviously. The first six to twelve months were incredibly difficult - it is common to feel underwhelmed when returning home from an overseas life. I grieved for my Roman self, for the warmth of the people there and the excitement of the city. My surroundings were comparatively so dull.

The only way to overcome my sense of loss was to make a conscious effort every day to seek out the joys in the ordinary – my apartment, my friends, my adorable niece – and to buy some stock in a future laden with potential.  

It took quite some time - and to this day, I’m not always great at it - but I learnt to look for and find small pockets of pleasure all around me. Sunlight streaming through the window of my very own apartment; shelves filled with books and memories; walks by the waterside only ten minutes from my doorstep; soul-feeding belly laughs with old friends and new; art gallery visits and theatre shows; learning to tango; twenty second hugs*.

Having a dream is a luxury not a necessity. And realising a dream is a privilege. The motivation to get out of bed in the morning and give meaning to your life isn’t necessarily embedded in a future condition, it can be found in every aspect of life. Raising your children, growing your garden, walking your dog, doing your paid job well, connecting with friends, being somebody’s rock.

By all means, have a dream, a fantasy you can escape to, an aspiration that drives you to strive harder. If it is within your power to make it come true, you should absolutely do it. You will be one of the lucky ones, like me.

But know this - making your dream a reality does not make life’s difficulties easier; people you love will still get ill and pass, friends will come and go, you will still have responsibilities and bills to pay. Know, too, that the realisation of your dream may be temporary, disappointing, the beginning of greater challenges, or unattainable altogether.

This does not make dreams pointless – it makes them realistic.

*I know - this seems like a dream right now, but we have to stay strong.