I dreamed I was looking for a new house.
This is interesting to me, because, though I am not currently looking for a new house, my living space (and whether I want to change it) is something I think about a lot.
Beloved and I can't live together.
There are lots of reasons for this. For one thing, her home is her cocoon, her sacred space, a place that is completely and precisely the way she wants and likes it. It is beautiful. It is immaculate. There is no clutter, there are no piles of paper. There is minimalist furniture, a loft with a mattress, and gorgeous art reproductions (mostly black and white photography).
My living space is... how shall I put this?... different. Different from Beloved's, though fairly typical for a non-housework-loving person with organization issues. Lots of piles, lots of paper, lots of temporary fixes for long-term problems. Lots of art... beautiful colors and textures... not minimalist in the least. Not Beloved's style in the least. Above my bed are a photo of a cavern lit with an unearthly light, which speaks to me of the resurrection; a painting of the women dancing away from the tomb, and a painting of a nude by a local artist. The colors and styles are warm, almost southwestern. Beloved loves them... in my home.
As a couple, we are style-challenged. But that is not the only issue. There is another factor, and that is my desire to keep my house as home base for my children for the next (mumble mumble) years. My kids are not nearly launched. For me to move in with Beloved, or even for us to find a place and negotiate the decorating and organizing, would be a loss for my children, as well as for me, in the way I hope to mother them. This is the home they have been raised in. I want to keep it for them for a while.
But there is another issue still, of course, and that is the fact that I am still semi-closeted.
In my dream I found myself looking at a home that was part of a city street, a kind of townhouse in the Dutch style, looking very much like the homes that line the canals in Amsterdam. Entering it I found myself in a dark room with a fire in the hearth, sparsely but warmly decorated. Around back, there were flowers and a view, improbably enough, of the sea.
Other people with looking at the house at the same time. A child picked up a dish from a stack of china on a sideboard, and threw it, Frisbee style, so that it smashed on the rocks leading to the waves.
I have been longing for home most of my life. Every once in a while I catch a glimpse of something that evokes it powerfully for me in a dream, a place that seems to tingle with the possibility: Is this it?
My living space is... how shall I put this?... different. Different from Beloved's, though fairly typical for a non-housework-loving person with organization issues. Lots of piles, lots of paper, lots of temporary fixes for long-term problems. Lots of art... beautiful colors and textures... not minimalist in the least. Not Beloved's style in the least. Above my bed are a photo of a cavern lit with an unearthly light, which speaks to me of the resurrection; a painting of the women dancing away from the tomb, and a painting of a nude by a local artist. The colors and styles are warm, almost southwestern. Beloved loves them... in my home.
As a couple, we are style-challenged. But that is not the only issue. There is another factor, and that is my desire to keep my house as home base for my children for the next (mumble mumble) years. My kids are not nearly launched. For me to move in with Beloved, or even for us to find a place and negotiate the decorating and organizing, would be a loss for my children, as well as for me, in the way I hope to mother them. This is the home they have been raised in. I want to keep it for them for a while.
But there is another issue still, of course, and that is the fact that I am still semi-closeted.
In my dream I found myself looking at a home that was part of a city street, a kind of townhouse in the Dutch style, looking very much like the homes that line the canals in Amsterdam. Entering it I found myself in a dark room with a fire in the hearth, sparsely but warmly decorated. Around back, there were flowers and a view, improbably enough, of the sea.
Other people with looking at the house at the same time. A child picked up a dish from a stack of china on a sideboard, and threw it, Frisbee style, so that it smashed on the rocks leading to the waves.
I have been longing for home most of my life. Every once in a while I catch a glimpse of something that evokes it powerfully for me in a dream, a place that seems to tingle with the possibility: Is this it?
6 comments:
dude. that's intense. i kind of love it though!
I used to have house dreams a lot when I was in therapy. It was all part of the process. My dreams would be more about discovering new rooms I never knew were in my house or apartment. The house would go on and on with new discoveries.
My therapist said that houses in dreams are often representations of self. In my case, I was discovering new parts of myself, things I'd never explored in my life, new and exciting possibilities. If you look at your dream house as a representation of self, what do you see?
(My blog "silence" hasn't been very silent today. Oh well!)
Cecilia, you always express yourself so eloquently. I, too, am a "non-housework-loving person with organization issues." However, ever since I heard the story about Sister Marie cleaning the basement bathroom (written about on Oct. 2), I am trying to be less resentful in cleaning. . . .Both your homes sound ideal for each one of you. This is the season for separate homes, but it does not negate what changes may occur in the future.
LM, me too.
Suz, I have heard that, but had forgotten. Hmmmm (rubbing her chin)...
Jan, the story about Sister Marie is a powerful one, and a challenge to me, for sure. Thanks for reminding me.
Cecilia, I'm glad you liked the story of Sr. Marie, too. I'm glad you now reminded me of it again!
Wow, my first time on your blog, and I'm impressed. How interesting to be able to follow you on your very specific journey. I wish you all the best, and look forward to watching it unfold. - Lovesick Billy
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