The hardest part of finishing this thesis, I find, is dealing with the new habits my subconscious has developed. Every night as I drift off to sleep, my mind, and then my body, starts to believe I’m lying in my old bed at my parent’s house in Seattle. I begin to hear the noises from our upstairs neighbors as the sounds of my childhood home, and the feel of the room shifts around me. This is lovely, until I wake up in the morning, and discover it isn’t real. Then it’s depressing.
And as I work, I will suddenly find myself staring into space, daydreaming of all the places I would rather be, all the places I’ll be able to visit, at last, in just a short time. If I can just manage to concentrate, and keep writing. It’s as though, now that the end is in sight, I have opened the door to the future just a crack, and all the desires and dreams of home that I’ve had over the last three years are trying to shove it wide, clamoring to be let in. And I want to let them in! But I have to grit my teeth, shove the door closed, and keep working.
I can’t wait for the day when I can fling the door open, and run through it.