House Dreams

‪I never dream about my house. I dream weird new houses, which made sense when it looked like we’d have to sell this house and move away. But this morning, I think my brain tried to dream about my house. The result was a strange hybrid of the bones of the house I grew up in, set on the hill where I live now, with all of the furniture stripped away and stolen. It was a nightmare, and even while having it, I wondered, why would anyone bother with stealing big heavy couches? Or quirky paintings from the walls? But I think it was an attempt by my brain to finally start incorporating my real house — where I’ve lived for nine years — into my dreams. Maybe, my brain finally accepts that I’m staying here. That this is home.‬

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