Wednesday, January 25, 2012

This Old House

And I can't stop dreaming about houses. They are always big-- lots of space. And I'm running through it trying to get the best room to be my room (like I'm 10 again) and it's such an important decision because it'll be my room forever, and I go through the cold and dirty rooms-- some with wood floors, sandy with dirt beneath my feet. Others hold old, wrecked furniture-- a broken chair here, a cast-off old shoe there. And then I hit pay-dirt. Carpet, plush, soft, and SPACE. Such a nice large room and a big closet and a soft bed and beautiful, polished old furniture.

Last night's room of choice even had a bay window with reading seat, a dream of mine ever since I can remember. But my sister had beaten me to it, and she was being really stubborn about giving it up.

The rest of the house was amazing too. Two kitchens, several bathrooms (these are NEVER nice in my dreams though, always dirty and kinda old), big, spacious living rooms... and this one guy wanted Mike to coach the local high school football team, so he was giving us a DEAL: $85,000 for this house right in the middle of the city. Out the bay window, I could see the city's lights (no idea what city), skyscrapers and blinking apartments.

THIS is interesting. A little overwhelming, since I dreamed about pretty much every room last night. It's the second house dream this week, though. And I had one last week.

New job, new phase in life, getting back into my writing, and feeling creative... a lot of it is guesswork-- how can anyone know what my subconscious wants to say to me? Still, I also think we're all pretty similar in the way we process information, so there could be some truth to this stuff.

I don't know. But I can't stop dreaming about houses.

2 comments:

  1. Yeah, I'm sure it's just that you're entering a new phase. I had a dream like that recently. I dreamed I escaped from jail (feeling ELATED) and went to a party afterward. Obviously because I'm out of that wedding crap and have my life back again.

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