A Dream About A House (1)  

Posted by: Jessica

I determined when I started this blog that I would record any dreams that I might have about houses. It's only fair. Well, I had one last night...although it wasn't so much about a house as it was about a house-like hotel room. Dan (husband) and I are planning a November trip to Florida and I have been obsessing over finding the perfect accommodation for the one night we will be hoteling it by the ocean. I'm sure that fact had no small impact on the hotel-like quality of my most recent house dream.

There was a large sitting room and a hallway with at least two other rooms off the hall. I could see into one of the rooms. It was messy and had a mattress on the floor for a bed and there were blankets and clothes strewn all around. I was the only person in the place. Everyone "else" was outside in a school bus waiting to leave. I was just milling about, when it dawned on me that it was 3:00 in the afternoon. I started freaking out because it was a hotel room and I knew that the next guests would be arriving and because we hadn't properly vacated the room by the proper check out time, housekeeping hadn't been by to clean it. Of course, in my dream, it wasn't housekeeping's job to clean up...it was ours. The extent to which the place needed to be cleaned was monstrous...every where I looked there were little piles of junk and stuff...it was like one of those nightmare "helping your friends move" experiences where you show up to help and next to nothing has been boxed or cleaned and it all has to be done before the truck is due back at the rental place in 5 hours. Let me reiterate - I was alone in the place. There was a kitchenette with a dishwasher, and somehow everyone had decided to pile up all the dirty dishes on top of the dishwasher. (A side note here...for what ever reason, the dirty "dishes" consisted primarily of flower vases of various shapes and sizes.) I opened the dishwasher to find that it was full of clean dishes that needed to be put away before I could load it with the dirty dishes. So I took out a glass or a plate or something and went to put it away and discovered immediately that I had no idea where to put them in this unfamiliar kitchen. I kept opening cupboard after cupboard and drawer after drawer looking for the right place to put them, but every single place was the wrong place. The End.

Not much of the prophetic in this dream, I'm afraid. Just a lot of exasperation. Infer what you will from this brief injection of levity before I return with a new post on something like hell or liturgy or that cult out in Vermont in 1999.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 01, 2008 . You can leave a response and follow any responses to this entry through the Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom) .

4 comments

i love that the dirty dishes were flower vases. that's my favorite part. maybe you had a lovely and lavish party the night before?

No where to put them... Sounds like it's related somehow to opening the box at the wrong end. I'd google that to see if you have some deep-seeded psychological damage related to planted pots. -Auntie Kyung

Wait, you have another blog? Why did I not know that you have another blog? I found it totally by accident while looking for Mike's theology site that has apparently turned into a photoshop tutorial.

I *love* that you dream about houses. I think that dreams are significant and in a way that goes far beyond any code-breaking or Nova science explanations. Not that I am against interpretation--there are certainly grounds for that in the Bible--but dreams have their own reality beyond the literal translations we puzzle out. I really don't think that is New Age-y. After all, God created dreaming. Once when asked to explain one of his poems, Robert Frost famously said, "you want me to say it worse?" A dream is like a poem--it says something beyond what we can put into words when we wake up.

I dream about tornados. I do not know what that says about me, but it usually happens when there is great upheaval in my life. And if I fight with Jason, I often dream that someone else is selflessly and perfectly in love with me. Of course I regretfully turn him down (although there was that one time I kissed Daniel Faraday.) Five years ago I dreamed that I had a son who turned out to be a cat. I told this to Ardith and she said, "well, you kind of do."

But so many dreams have no easy interpretation or relationship to waking life. And even those dreams that seem obvious (anyone who knows me also knows that my cats are my children) are a creation unto themselves. An essay about a poem is not without value, but it is not a poem. A postcard of Lake Louise is not Lake Louise.

Anyhoo, this is long and rambling and two years late. I love Musings of an Aging Ingenue, but maybe sometime you can resurrect this blog as well. You and your house dreams (and, oh yes, Jesus) are indeed special and worth writing about.

See you soon, friend.

Sarah (mean and tall)

Whew! That comment was even longer than I thought once I published it. Sorry. Maybe I should have just sent you an e-mail. Too late now.

S.

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