Mindful-fun-da-mentals

Explorations of mind, paths, and life

Another House

Posted on June 21, 2008 - Filed Under self reflect

Since grad school I have had these crazy house dreams. Houses, with stuff, none of it mine. I keep rummaging through, looking, observing, like an art critic at Nude Night in Orlando, touring through rooms of all kinds. Sometimes I am with a posse of family, following in line, fellow searchers. Sometimes I think I am alone. Tonight was one of those nights – a night of houses and water – almost always together.

I was at a party. My son and I got curious about the house that had some 26+ bedrooms. I ask the owner if I can check it out and he informs me he doesn’t even know what all there is in the house, but give it a go, ONLY, in one wing of the house. He writes a little note so his staff know we are permitted to move around the wing. So we trek forward down a long white hall with lots of doors. We step into rooms, not unlike the Roosevelt house along the Hudson, room after room of fancy decor. My son and I pass a little open door with a long narrow hallway that runs parallel to the hall we were looking at. We speculate what it is, and as we sneak in we hear the voices of staff, making beds in another room. We realize it is the staff hall, hidden from everyone so that they might serve the rooms and stay out of sight. I think what a secretive way to observe things.
Suddenly I sense we might be found out, going through parts of the house, looking at artwork and furniture, so we run from areas originally forbidden. [Transition – forgotten]

I see this little miniature water way, with a dark “love tunnel” type mountain in the way. Little colorful boats go in one side and come out the other, transformed. I watch for a bit as little boats go in, then come out. I look to my right and see a large tunnel exit, and a boat emerges with people in it, just like the miniature. I follow the group as the walk a colorful pathway. Someone is talking, things are colorful and bizarre. We round a bend. There are glass window-type walls on my right, and a chiseled rock face on my left. One of the windows is missing as the turn sharpens, covered hastily with cardboard and duct tape and I find it funny that as walkers we are perilously close to skidding off the cliff as we “round the bend.” Suddenly the group stops and observes an engraved square on the rock face as we see a house emerge on the left. The tour guide states, “And this is the house of Walt” I hear a gasp from the group, and I wonder who “Walt” is. “Follow me,” says the guide, and like a lamb, I follow.

Inside we are presented with a large screen showing films. The room has paintings all over. I don’t recognize the work. I see a small magazine on a table and pick it up, I feel confused. I state I need to use the restroom, and I am pointed down a hall. I see that there is another hall similar to the one I am walking down as I come to the axis of the two, I wander down and find another room like the one I was in, with a different set of colors and paintings, but the same movies and setup, different crowd. I am disappointed, this is just a tourist trap. There is nothing unique here. I realize I am in the home of Disney.

I am just to lazy to write the details, or perhaps, awakening to a call from my sister-in-law who obviously hit our number accidentally and then left me saying HELLO twelve times before I hung up, has caused the details to fade off. Regardless, the point here, is all these houses.

I had another dream on Wednesday morning that was even more fascinating, likely only to me, with the travel, the choices, the water, the houses. I need to write it down, but it is Saturday morning and the clan is fussing for food, and about the annoyance of my fingers tap-tapping on the keyboard instead of flip-flipping something on the stove.

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