There’s a certain kind of cruelty that isn’t loud — it’s symbolic.
Ten years ago, Moraira was your dream: sunshine, family, peace.
He never wanted to come. He criticized Spain — too hot, too tacky, too Benidorm.
He dismissed your joy because it wasn’t his.

But now, suddenly, it’s his place.
He visits, settles, even claims it as though the dream was always his own.

Why does this happen?
Psychologically, this behavior fits a familiar pattern in narcissistic and controlling personalities — it’s about possession, not connection.
They don’t seek joy; they seek ownership.
When they sense that something (or someone) gives you life, they feel a loss of control. So they do the next best thing — they try to own it.

It’s called psychological appropriation — taking over the spaces, ideas, or dreams that once defined your freedom.
It’s not love of place. It’s a reassertion of power.

From a neuroscience perspective, this has to do with dominance and status networks in the brain.
When a narcissistic individual perceives a threat to their ego (for example, seeing you thrive or find peace in Moraira), their amygdala and striatum — regions tied to envy, competition, and social reward — activate.
Rather than process that feeling as admiration, the brain interprets it as a challenge.
And so, they reclaim the very thing they once rejected.
Not out of love — but to prove they can.

To the survivor, it feels surreal.
You spent years being told your dream was silly.
Now the same person stands in it, smiling, as if they built it themselves.

But the truth is: they can take the location, not the meaning.
They can’t replicate the feeling of peace you once found there, because peace can’t be performed — it has to be felt.
And the mind that feeds on control will never know peace.

So let them have Moraira on the map.
You still own the dream in spirit — the version that was pure, full of love, and yours.
The coordinates may be the same,
but only one of you ever truly belonged there.