Dreamscape

I had a dream a few days ago that was a bit strange. It was strange in a way that dreams rarely are; it wasn’t an oddity of locale, or of situation, rather, it was strange in a way I have never experienced before.

In my dream, my family and I were moving into a new house. It was amarvelous house, filled with teak cabinetry fitted out like an old ship, with wood paneled ceilings and walls. It felt cozy and warm, with the sense of peeking through a honey jar- all golden and glowing.

We were all separated, exploring our new home. I was peeking into the rooms, in love with the whole experience, planning where our furniture would be, imagining our future in this house. I was delighted to find out that the house didn’t just feel like a ship- it was a wonderful house-boat. I could even see an island through the porthole in one of the bedrooms.

I wandered happily in the house boat of my dream until I came to a certain door. The door was old wood, scarred and pitted. It was fitted with old copper hinges and an Arts and Crafts style latch, in the shape of a triangle. I lifted the latch and the door creaked open.

Inside, the walls were creamy plaster, a relief from all of the wood grain. It was a large bright walk in closet with a small stained glass window, a la Frank Lloyd Wright. There was a closet bar, with seven assorted men’s shirts hanging on wood hangers. I felt the well washed linen and cotton shirts, enjoying the coolness of the fabric. Just a few things, perhaps left by a former owner, I guessed. My breath caught in my throat as I looked around. On a peg hung an extraordinary tie rack- it was a complete work of art. The tie rack was a sort of golden, wooden hanger with a marvelous Arts and Crafts style motif, where the sumptuous silk ties ran through slits built into the design for that very purpose. It looked as though Frank Lloyd Wright had
gotten drunk and designed it as party trick.

It was the tie rack that gave birth to the very strange feeling that was the part of the dream I remembered best. I ran my fingers over the silk of the ties and began to wonder whose dream I had wandered into. The dream-reality didn’t fade, but the feeling and certainty grew- this was definitely not my own dream place, but someone else’s. Not my dream house-boat. Someone else’s own, personal dreamscape that I had happened upon. The delight in the house gave way to a feeling of trespass into something so personal, so intimate. I backed out of the closet and then I woke up.

I had such a strong sense of being an intruder in the dream, in my own dream place. I am still puzzled by it.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone