I think the universe is trying to tell me something. And that something, is that I need to go back to Italy.
I have been having dreams lately where I'm just strolling down a nondescript street, alone, when I see a door to my left. I walk up the stairs, go through the door, and voila! I'm in Italy! I'm not sure where in Italy I am (my subconscious hasn't been too specific) but there are linens hanging from the clotheslines above my head, cyprus trees bending in the night breeze, and there are geraniums blooming in window boxes, and in Hilaryland, all Italian windows must have boxes, thus, flowers, thus red geraniums in every single box (apparently, in my Italy, everything matches.)
And there are lots of warm lights that glow from windows where people sit, eating pasta and drinking wine together, couples ride away on Vespas, and I stand in the street, looking in the windows, wishing that I, too, could be in Italy.
Also, yesterday I saw a huge truck with a license plate that read "GELATO."
It's definitely a sign.
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