I had a dream yet again about houses.
In this dream, I lived in a house that was dilapidated and in a poor area by the train tracks. Inside the house was absolutely immaculate and gorgeous with plush and exorbitant furniture and rooms that looked like something out of Buckingham Palace. In the rooms, there were different scenarios playing out. One room had a young girl all in white rocking back and forth on a bed crying hysterically. I kept asking her what was wrong, but she would never show me her face and just kept wailing hysterically like she was suffering and dying a slow and painful death. Another room had a dog and cat playing tug of war with a chew toy. Another room had a group of people I did not even know laughing and chattering.
I wake up completely confused and asking aloud: “Where am I?”
I dream so often about houses that you would think I am meant to be in real estate. My dreams about houses are so vivid and real that I wake up truly believing that I am in that house and no longer in my home. These house dreams always vary slightly, but they do revolve around certain themes. I am rearranging furniture. I am overwhelmed by too much stuff and want to throw everything and anything out to start anew. I am overlooking a gorgeous balcony view of a sky full of stars and a bright blinding moon that I am wishing upon. I have a huge and massive kitchen that looks like something out of “Better Homes & Garden” magazines with all the food in the world for me to chop, cook, sauté, and bake. The houses have been falling apart, manicured mansions, a cozy bungalow, or a picturesque two floor house in the center of suburbia. I never dream about an apartment, a farm house, or a place in the hustle and bustle of a city. The houses have many different rooms and in the rooms are people or pets laughing, fighting, or crying.
I asked my good friend who is the ultimate dream lover and analyzer what this means and she says: “A house represents your sense of self. Everything going on in the houses is everything you are experiencing or trying to rearrange.”
I thought about my sense of self. I thought about ‘house’ in the literal sense that I had been living on my own and in my one bedroom apartment for nearly a decade. It was only when I lived alone that I was forced to learn to handle household and handy troubles (i.e. electrical and plumbing issues), developing dynamics and relations and dependency on the kindness and care of neighbors with an emphasis on community, and the logistics and mechanics of devices that I never even thought about (i.e. the air conditioner, the heating, window screens, etc.). I recently realized that it has taken me almost a decade later and still counting about how my sense of self has and is always changing, moving, developing, progressing, and rearranging. It also dawned on me that as the years have gone by that I invite less and less people into my home. When I first moved in, I wanted to and did invite everyone and anyone to my place. Over time, I have become more protective, selective, reclusive, and even isolated with just wanting and wishing to enjoy and savor the simple, the peace and quiet of being in my home and place. It reaches a point that a house is no longer a house, but a house becomes your home and is the becoming of you.
Our experiences put us in a constantly moving, changing, developing, and rearranging ourselves. How has your sense of self changed and developed? How have you had to rearrange yourself and others? Do you often invite people to your house, or vice versa? At what point (if any) did it dawn on you that your house is the becoming of your home and of you?
Keep smilin’ until we meet again,