My Dream Home: A Place of True Belonging
If the title resonates with you, you have probably stumbled upon one of life’s most significant questions: What is my dream home?
For years, the media has painted an idealized picture of what a dream home should look like—a multi-story house with a spacious living room, a small garden, a garage, and a warm, friendly neighborhood. Children laughing in the yard, weekend barbecues with neighbors, and a peaceful, fulfilling life.
But let’s be honest: that dream feels more like a mirage than reality. Society has become more isolated individualism. The cost of living has skyrocketed. The concept of homeownership has shifted from a mundane thing to calculated financial battle. It’s not about what we want; it’s about what we can afford.
Reality Check: The Cost of a Dream
The first and foremost obstacle? Money. A home is not built with dreams or hope—it is built with money.
I don’t have the luxury of choosing a home based solely on my desires. Instead, I must settle for what is financially feasible: a place near an industrial complex where job opportunities are stable. Even then, homeownership in a city remains out of reach for most.
In the countryside, houses with all the ideal features are everywhere. Wide-open spaces, fresh air, and serenity—yet, people are leaving rural areas in droves. Why? Because without a sustainable future and job security, a house is just an empty shell. Without future there is no dream.
Technology, AI-driven automation, and the shift toward service industries have made well-paying jobs scarce in rural areas. Meanwhile, urban housing prices rise in tandem with income levels, carefully calculated to extract the maximum possible debt from buyers. The price of a home is not just its market value—it is a reflection of a system designed to keep us working for decades.
To afford a city home, I must take out massive loans, drain my savings, and work tirelessly for 30 years to repay my mortgage. By the time I finally own my home, I will be 50. But at what cost?
I will have sacrificed time with my loved ones. My child will have grown up without me truly being there. I will have spent decades working to survive, not to live. And when I finally have the means to enjoy life, I may no longer have the energy or the freedom to do so.
Also it is very boring life to live in a apartment. It is just a concrete jungle of uniformity. Children cannot run freely. Playing an instrument loudly is out of the question. Even laughter and excitement must be measured, contained within thin walls.
With all the effort is this really the dream home we envisioned?
So, what is my dream home?
It is not just about walls, windows, and rooftops. It is about the freedom to live.
A home should be a place where I can breathe, where my family can laugh without restraint, where memories are created without the fear of disturbing the neighbors. It is a place where I can truly belong, not just exist.
Maybe it won’t be a grand house with a garden. Maybe it won’t be in the heart of the city. But my dream home is wherever I can feel at peace—where life is not about sacrifice but about living, loving, and truly being present.
Perhaps, in the end, the dream home isn’t a place at all.
It is there somewhere in the corner of my heart.
P.S. If I am rich, I will be living in a huge ass apartment in the heart of the city with all the luxurious premium facilities. HAHA.
I don’t know what I might do when the situation happens.
The Newsdom 