Dreaming in Chinese

I did my study abroad in Beijing after two years of Chinese language study in college.

What began as a curiosity to explore anything Asian, as an attempt to understand my own heritage, soon unfolded into pure delight in learning to read and write characters and little triumphs in recognizing and replicating vocal tones.

My Chinese professors had us in class 5 days a week, held weekly 1-1 tutoring, and implored us to listen to audio lessons in the language lab daily. This might sound like torture to some—but I freakin’ loved it.

So, by the time I got to the mainland with a gaggle of other American students and we were required to sign a strict “language pledge”—to only speak zhongwen exclusively throughout the program—I was intimidated, but also up for the challenge.

My classmates and I stayed faithful to the language pledge. The only time I heard my roommate speak English was when she was on the phone with her family—and it sounded so strange!

By the end of that summer, I was haggling with trinket vendors and ordering jiaozi with relative ease.

And then—perhaps the ultimate confirmation of immersion—I began dreaming in Chinese.

Maybe it was sign, after months of linguistically and culturally diving deep, of the conscious and the unconscious finally coming into union.

This is the kind of thing that can happen when you immerse yourself in something.

You might craft a four-course meal without looking at a single recipe.

You could learn how to dance the tango.

You might begin to play an instrument that’s always intrigued you.

You could crochet a baby blanket.

Or you might create a fancy floral arrangement.

This is a time to tap into joy and possibility.

What is calling you into a bit of immersion right now?

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