22 June 2009

The Pink House in Dreamland

Last night I had a dream that I have had many times before. Maybe a hundred times before, since I was a child. It involves a large pink house with which I am very familiar and where I have been many times before.

This house is not well-kept like the one in the photo above. Its paint is peeling and its windows have the ripples and fog of old glass that has stood long in the sun. A porch runs across the front of the building, and on the second floor, a veranda does the same.

Like Dr. Who's tardis, this house contains any number of rooms, sometimes more than others. I may meet anyone I know inside the house; although they don't always look like themselves, I always recognize them.

In what I think of as the basement is a long hall with doorways on either side of it, like a hotel. Sometimes I walk down the hall and choose a door and open it and see a scene of splendor or squalor. The people in the hotel hall are usually people who have passed on or those with whom I've lost touch, but they are never as I knew them in life. Sometimes they say something that sticks with me when I wake. Sometimes I take what they say as a warning, such as the time my grandma told me that Exley should not ride his motorcycle without the sidecar.

(The next day when Exley asked me to help him take the sidecar off his motorcycle, I refused. I told him the dream. I said it was important. He didn't listen. I nursed him for months after he wrecked his bike before he was put back together enough to be functional.)

At the end of the hotel hall is a door that leads into a church. It happens to be the same church I attended when I was young, the one where I lost my faith. I usually do not go there, as it is in good repair and does not need my attention. When I dream about my dad's funeral, it takes place in this church, although in reality it did not. I remember a wedding there once, and several ceremonies involving medals.

In the dreams I always concern myself with the rooms on the first floor, a few of which I have already renovated and made beautiful, but most of which are in need of work. One room, which I worked on during several dreams, was covered with piles of dirty, stinking blankets and towels. Around the baseboards were piles of old discarded clothing. The room had the smell of motor oil and axle grease. The last time I saw it, the room was empty, but there was still a faded olive green carpet that would need to be removed or replaced.

I'm not kidding. I also cleaned and decorated a downstairs room so that the right side of the room was an exact reverse of the left side, a mirror image.

These dreams are physically tiring, because I am always climbing stairs, carrying furniture, using power tools - and I'm thirsty. It seems that people in my pink house are always thirsty. I know there are parties, but I don't remember ever having something to drink.

The veranda scares me, although the last time I was there some work had been done to make it more sturdy. I no longer felt as though my footsteps would create enough vibration to send the porch roof tumbling to the floor. I used to be so afraid to go there that I would wake up at the thought of it. On the veranda sits a pair of chairs covered in green velvet, a little French provential table between them.

Quite a few things inside the house are green - natural greens, not those horrible glowing, shouting, modern greens. But still I don't like green, whatever its shade. I have no idea why it is inside my house.

This is the part I think is the strangest. The house and its big front yard and the field behind and the barn are smack dab in the middle of a tiny town where I am free to take what I want, and I never meet any other person, although there is a veritable crowd in my pink house.

When I'm not working on the pink house, I walk slowly about the town looking in windows and potting sheds and kitchen cabinets for things I want to take home.

The idea that anyone would have a dream frequently enough to know what street she lives on in Dreamland fascinates me. The idea that I'm the one having the dream - what the heck does it mean?


Do you have a recurring dream or nightmare? What's the strangest dream you've ever had? Have you ever had a dream come true? Do you take dreams to be simply our brains blowing off steam, or do you believe they mean something? Pick one and give details.

8 comments:

Lydia said...

I have three recurring dreams, not as beautiful as yours.

The one I have the most often is that I am in a glass high rise on a beach. it's an office building, not a condo or hotel. I am on the beach and I see a wave coming. The wave is one and a half times the height of the building. My chest hurts. I run inside the building and for some reason run up and up and up the stairs. The walls are glass, so I see the wave coming closer and closer. I stop in a conference room when I realize it's too late. I wake up right before it hits. I'm convinced if it ever does, I will die. I'm tired for days after that one. I can't breathe right now just typing it.

Sweet Pea said...

Could you be the pink house? Always cleaning, renovating decorating, exploring, recognizing, improving. Always being thirsty a clue to a health issue?

I have a recurring dream that takes place in a high school I never attended but recognize when I'm in the dream. It's never a good dream. I'm usually lost or late or alone and frighted. I don't see other people in the dream. I'm wandering and edgy I glad when I wake up.

In my good dreams I can fly and the dreams are in vivid colors.

I do believe our dreams mean something and I often feel I've resolved something in my dreams. For a very short time I kept a dream journal. It was very revealing. Maybe I'll start again.

powdergirl said...

Your dream sounds nice, but tiring what with all the reno's going on in the rooms,
I bet you're making them beautiful!

I only have one recurring dream, I'd tell you, but Steven King would probably steal it. Shudder.

The Green Stone Woman said...

I dream about a house with many rooms, every time I go there, I discover a new room. The rooms are all in different architectural styles as if they belong to different houses. The views from the windows are all different. I am very excited about this house, because I discover all sorts of details, like built in beds and carpets and sunken living rooms and multiple bathrooms and laundry rooms. There are gardens and kitchens and stores of food. Sometimes I plant the gardens and decorate the rooms and paint the walls. Sometimes I have to go shopping, but I can't find the store. I like dreaming about my house, even when it had a room that was possessed and needed to be destroyed. That was hard, but I managed. I think the rooms represent all the different aspects of my life and I'm trying to make a whole co-ordinated thing out of them.

SugarCain said...

You guys are the best, showing up here to encouragement.

Lydia, I know you won't die because I jump off of cliffs and roofs and out of airplanes and I never die. I'm back the next night being foolish. Would you like your dream interpreted according to all the wisdom in my dream interpretation books? I love to do that.

Pea, those school anxiety dreams are wonderful, aren't they? Have you ever shown up for a test wearing nothing but your smile?

Ah, powdergirl. I'd like to have you in some of my dreams. Occasionally ass-kicking must be done.

Green Stone Woman, I agree that my house is me. I would like for it to be smaller and more manageable. I notice that when I'm having fewer problems the house seems in better shape.

powdergirl said...

Powdergirl is available for ass-kicking 24/7 : )

That was cute sugar, I had to kick a bit of ass just this day.

Fragrant Liar said...

Reminds me of the story my 3rd grade teacher read us: The Pink Motel. I've had a few dreams of it too since then (and I'm your age). I would love to get my hands on that book!

Lilly said...

Wonder what it all means? I would love a pink and green house though.

I had one recurring dream for years but it suddenly stopped.

I was walking my baby sister in a pram across a very narrow bridge. When we were about half way across this huge guy came from the other side (only one person at a time could fit on the bridge). I started to panic. He just pushed us into the water in order to get passed us. My baby sister was in a hooded furlined cape and hood (a la little red rding hood). I could not get her out of her pram and she drowned. I was devastated. This dream haunted me for years and I would wake up crying. She is alive and well. Bizarre.