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Dreams about Moscow
My brain is still reconciling my life story. The recurring dream has been so recurring that it’s recursive.
I left Moscow with my family thirteen years ago. The summer of 2013 was my last summer in Russia.
I never went back — there was never a real need, and later the combination of the immigration process and geopolitics killed any possibility of returning, even if for a short visit. My mom came to the US after the country started the war in Ukraine.
I loved Moscow and though I spent a lot of my time in the West I made several decisions in my younger years to respond to the pull that Moscow had on me. But once I left one final time in 2013 — I left. I never experienced any nostalgia. There was no pull any more. Why I experienced that finality in 2013 is a different story on which I wrote an entire book — a memoir that I hope to publish this summer.
And yet I dream about being in Moscow every single night. Usually I’m walking the streets of the city centre — Tverskaya or the neighbourhoods near the University district where my mom used to live. It’s always summer, never winter. Several times — like in last night’s dream — I’m crossing Tverskaya to walk towards the McDonald’s that used to be in Gazetny pereulok (though it isn’t there any more, because the company left Russia).
