Monday, March 06, 2006

Dream Diary: Hole-y House

dream
leaving the driveway of my grandmother's house, I believe that I need to run home. There's a long dirt road that is a shortcut to get to another town instead of the hiway. I start to head for it, turn up the road and realize I'm heading up the wrong road, so I turn back around, wait to cross the road and then go up this new road, which has large puddles and a few trucks driving up it which I have to stop by the side of the road and wait to pass. I'm worried about being too tired to keep on running so I consciously regulate my pace and my breathing like I do when I'm running for exercise.

As I'm waiting for a particularly large drunk to pass me by the scene switches to inside an old house that presumably lay along the middle of this obscure dirt road. I am going up a flight of darkly-lit stairs, thinking 'ok, I'll be finished soon' but eventually run into a dead-end at the top of the stairs.

I slowly tiptoe back down the stairs and notice that there are large holes in the floor that go clear through two floors and down into a basecement. I am extra cautious not to fall into these, going right to the edge and curling the toes of one foot over the edge before stepping over them.

At this point I'm trying to get to another passage way in this house that I believe leads back outside and will let me continue in the direction that I was running before.

The holes in the floor are perfectly square and were put there on purpose. The whole house is somehow supposed to be meaningful. There are other people milling around the ground floor of the house talking about it. I ask someone who seems to be my father what the purpose of this thing is, and he says to go explore the second floor some more and it will come to you. But I go up, check each room, gingerly step over the gaping holes in the floor, but don't find anything other than small, empty rooms in this large but past its prime old country house.

I get to one point where there's a half-height door that I have to crawl through, and then into some crawl space that has white walls, a carpet and is more brightly lit than the rest of the house, and there's loud music playing. I crawl a little way ahead and there's someone ripping it up on a white electric guitar, lying on the floor in this small space but putting all his energy into what he's playing. This feels like a secret, comforting place that only I am aware exists inside this creeky old house. I crawl out another end in this little hallway and end up in what looks like a kitchen. There are lively-looking young people there and I try and ask one of them what this strange house is all about. One says that there's one meaning that was intended but that most people just think they're trying to pass this house they're squatting in together off as a museum so they can get some tax breaks.

I muse that that sounded like a good plan, but had a strong feeling that I knew I wouldn't be able to live there with them. That I didn't fit somehow. I just want to go back out onto my own old dirt road and keep on running.
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By al - 4:25 a.m. |

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