When I on my trip to Sweden unfortunately ended up spending too long at the airport, I seized the opportunity to do some “beauty shopping” in the tax free shop. Completely absentminded I behaved like the most wanted in between the slim isles in the store: Fumbling around I dropped almost everything I touched and as items rolled on the floor I tried in desperation to minimise embarrassment by grabbing them unsuccessfully in their movement. Upon checking the labels of the different “beauty” products I was amazed that people are dead-seriously willing to pay 79 Euro for 25 ml of facial cream. Appalled by this presumptuous manner of the companies I decided to take advantage of my suspicious apparition to perform the most criminal action I could muster: Rubbing some of the expensive content of the “test-tubes” in multiple layers onto my face and hands. I left the store with at least 10 euros smeared on my skin – claiming a small victory against the money-mongering-madhouse of the beauty industry. I continued my “multi-sensory” window-shopping in the perfume isle and when the female perfumes were sniffed to my satisfaction, I feeling like a naughty child reaching for the cookie-jar, ventured into the male section – hoping to relive a lifted moment.   

Here in Sweden time seems to stands still. I barely even know what day it is. Being home is comfort in the loving warmth from my family. Each evening during movie time my mom falls asleep. After lunch my father takes a long nap. I myself sleep in until lunch. It is amazing we ever manage see each other.  

I often dream very much in periods and this increased morning sleep has pushed me into such a state. For days now I have woken from dreams that I remember as the fleeting daydreams I in strong-willed moments fight off. In the unconscious state of REM-sleep I surrender enthusiastically. Sigmund Freud suggested the purpose of dreams to be “wish fulfilment”. While I find this theory to be mostly nonsense, in moments like these I acknowledge Freud could not be a hundred percent wrong.  

Hundred percent was instead given right on the first day in Sweden – hundred percent Sweden. Jumping into the car with my dad we headed straight to Ikea with the intention to test-sit all the bed-sofas for the upcoming move (expect an invitation at my earliest convenience). Eating a ‘räkmacka’ (shrimp sandwich) while drinking coffee and the Swedish feel was complete.   

A couple of days later I had lunch with a great friend of mine. Catching up on what is new, and what is old, we talked a little bit about the feeling of settling into the life that one leads. She told me that she found that her desires has grown very simple. She expressed it very humbly but to me it sounded beautiful, like she was happy and fully content with all major things in life.