I left Pacific Grove 20 years ago, but my heart longed to return every single day.

Pacific Grove offers an unmatched quality of life. The town has stunning views and is nestled between Monterey Bay, the City of Monterey, the Pacific Ocean, and the Del Monte Forest. The City serves the community with features like a monarch butterfly habitat sanctuary, pristine beaches, the oldest continuously operating lighthouse on the West Coast, top-notch emergency, fire, and ocean rescue services, and the lowest crime rate in Monterey County. Pacific Grove has an award-winning natural history museum. Everyone there takes pride in the small-town warmth and friendliness in a place lovingly called “P.G.”

I began having dreams of returning.

In the dream, I return to my old home. I go to the front of the lot where my little house once was, but the front door has disappeared. I walk to the back house on the lot where my neighbor Jan lives. I try her door, and it opens. As I step inside, the Afghan rugs and brass antiques — so different from my simple style — make it feel like nothing has changed.

Two decades had passed since I last lived in Pacific Grove, and the desire to return started to tug at me every day.

Many of my friends couldn’t believe I was leaving, and they did not understand why. I knew staying meant risking my life or ending up in the hospital.

When they asked when I would return, I would say, ‘I don’t think I’ll be back for a long time.’

I walked away from where I loved living and had a tribe of other empaths for support. Pacific Grove was my home for 21 years and was filled with memories of my daughter growing up in the “last hometown.”

I spent countless early mornings walking along the beach. We read endless books and watched the deer sleep in our backyard through the living room window.

My daughter took her first steps in a tiny 700 sq ft duplex on the second story just a few weeks after her first birthday. I left behind a place filled with all of our cherished memories. It felt like I was discarding a time capsule that held all the moments we had carefully preserved, hoping never to forget them.

In the small house from my dream, Jan emerged from her bedroom in her familiar nightgown, only to find me standing in her living room.

Strangely, she isn’t startled by my unexpected presence. Her expression is calm and serene. She has short white hair and a lean, toned figure that suggests regular exercise. She gazed at me knowingly as if she understood I was searching for something. A subtle, angled smile on her right cheek signifies recognition.

She knows I haven’t yet found what I’m seeking and silently hopes I will. She seems ready to help however she can before gently sending me on my way.

“Can I offer you some tea?” she asks.

I arrived in Pacific Grove after several moves down the coast, starting in Santa Cruz and then moving to La Selva Beach. Aptos, Soquel, and for several years in Salinas and then Monterey. With its beautiful coastline, Pacific Grove was intimidating and liberating. For years, I had wrestled with my empathetic and intuitive abilities, and Pacific Grove offered the potential—though not a guarantee—of finally living an authentic life. Although my daughter’s father was an atheist, I realized it was absurd to keep treating my empathetic gifts as if they were a burden or a misfortune. As I had hoped, all of my friends were supportive.

Dennis, our daughter, and I built a life together in Pacific Grove.

I took a job writing grants at the city’s Community Center and started my own employment business, immersing myself even deeper into the heart of this vibrant place.

Dennis and I formed friendships with people from all walks of life, creating a rich tapestry that forms when you approach a small community with an open heart that mirrors its diversity. I never envisioned living anywhere else when Pacific Grove became the place I called home.

In my dream, I kindly turned down Jan’s offer of tea, explaining that I needed to get going. As I step out of her cozy home, I glance over my shoulder, taking in the surroundings that feel as familiar as if I had just been there yesterday. Jan gives a soft wave as I gently close the door behind me.

When Dennis and I married, I thought I’d seamlessly handle the challenge of starting fresh.

But then, one day, I suddenly found myself overwhelmed by a panic attack.

I felt like I was pretending to be someone I wasn’t. What am I even doing in this marriage?

Who am I fooling?

I tried to drown out those thoughts with another voice saying, “It’s all okay, for crying out loud.”

Dennis was being abusive, and he was having an affair. The walls I had so courageously built around myself came crashing down at that moment. It felt as if I were on the verge of drowning.

After leaving Jan’s, I head toward the beach in my dream. It feels as though I’m effortlessly gliding on an airport-moving walkway. Though unsure of where I’m going, I keep moving, passing through downtown Pacific Grove, a hometown seemingly frozen in time, like a museum display. In Pacific Grove, almost nothing ever changes.

I returned to Pacific Grove last year and stayed for two months before returning to Colorado.

After twenty years, I finally said my goodbyes.

Perhaps one day, I’ll feel differently about Colorado.

Although Pacific Grove will always have a special place in my heart, it’s no longer a place I can call home. Maybe because it was pivotal in shaping my identity, I was holding onto a dream rather than reality. My heart was clinging to memories that can never be recreated. While many of my closest friends still live there, my bond with Pacific Grove—like its stunning beaches—will likely never fade. Maybe the dream was my heart telling me that’s okay.