It’s always different yet always the same. I find myself in a house. I look around. There are antique pieces of furniture, stacks of books in the corners, and on the walls--paintings made with actual paint instead of just prints on poster paper.I begin walking through the rooms, glancing right and left. One leads to another which leads to another. It’s like an endless maze of wonderful rooms. I realize, or am told by someone with me, that the house is mine. I can’t believe it. I'm filled with a sense of happiness and satisfaction.
Then I wake up and it’s all taken away. Well, except the stacks of books in the corners. Those are a reality.
Image: "An Interior of a Sitting Room" by Gustave De Launay
Technorati tags: house dream
3 comments:
Just found your blog. Had a really good one to share from last night... until I read you wanted nothing pervy!
I think it's cool that when you open your eyes from your dream, you see an image from your dream.
Interesting. Can you please tell us - are the books read or unread, red or green, overdue at the library, or "long-borrowed" from next door?
Do the people who share the house with you share your love of books, or is this a source of conflict?
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