I do every now and then—in my dreams.
The Forever Student …
In which I am an adult, living in my childhood home (apparently on my own) and still going to high school. On any given morning of my dreams, and a direct contrast to my then-real life, I’m running late, dealing with one problem after another. At last I get into my car (which as a real-life student I never had) and drive the five miles to school; only to circle around and around before finding a place to park.
By the time I enter the building, the final bell has rung and the halls are empty. Having no clue as to where I’m supposed to be, I find my way to the office, get my schedule, and after a few wrong turns, manage to locate the classroom. At last, I’m seated at a desk in my first period class, a class I’ve never attended before. What’s that the teacher said?! Oh, no! She’s giving us a six-week test, and until that moment I haven’t even opened my book.
Then someone asks about my dog. I have a dog? Who’s been feeding it, giving it water? Not me, that’s for sure. Should I stay or should I go? Decisions, decisions.
Yikes! From what I’ve read, the back-to-school dream is fairly common. Supposedly, it’s about anxiety and affects people who considered themselves very responsible. Possibly anal? Yup, that would be me.
Moving on to another dream …
The first house Hubby D and I bought was a charming pre-WWII fixer-upper—in other words a bottomless money pit. I never saw that house as it was but rather how it could’ve been, with a little imagination and lots of sweat equity. D saw nothing but the work. Several years and two-and-a-half babies later, we moved to a four-year-old cedar shake ranch that didn’t required much upkeep. House #2 lacked the charm of House #1 but served us well for years, especially after we hired the contractor who added a family room, fourth bedroom, and second bath.
All well and good. But in one of my recurring dreams, we’ve bought House #1 again. It’s been remodeled, the attic converted to extra bedrooms, giving us more space than I ever dreamed possible. And at the bottom of our sloping back yard, where there once was an antiquated septic system, an ice skating rink has taken its place, occupied by students from a nearby school having lots of fun. A winter wonderland if ever there was.
And back to House #2, although I dream of it occasionally, I never actually go inside. Instead, I walk from the uptown business district to this former home—about a mile and a half trek—and along the way, I pass a number of houses that never change yet only exist in my dreams.
Another feel-good dream …
After being married some years, Hubby D and I have bought the house his parents once owned which included an attached apartment we rented as newlyweds. The actual house, one block from our town’s Main Street, still stands, a 1920s four-square, two-story frame. But in my dreams the house in that same location is now a large brick Gothic, its third-floor attic a treasury of antique furniture and decorative items included in the sale. Needless to say, I am positively euphoric. All that furniture, all those rooms to fill! Too bad I always wake up before the big move.
As for my current home of many years …
House #3, a circa 1949 one-story sprawling brick, three fireplaces and a swimming pool that D maintains without grumbling. Thank you, dear. Over the years we’ve made some cosmetic changes (new doors, windows, and fencing) but that’s about it. Odd but true, I’ve never dreamed about this house on the bluffs overlooking St. Louis. Perhaps it’s because I’m still living the American Dream.
What about you? Any recurring dreams you’d like to share?