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Dreams 7-17 & 30-16

July 30, 2016

[7-17:  I recorded this dream at the time, but forgot to post it; this morning’s dream (below) reminded me of it.]

I had lost the old brick house (like the Italianate houses that dot the Indiana landscape, built around 1900 when farmers with section-sized farms—640 acres, with roads between them, became wealthy), with its massive, ancient oaks in the large yard, that is one of the old houses that recur in my dreams. Fortunately, I had painted many large canvasses with images of the house, exterior and interiors, and of the ancient trees. A painting of one of the trees was featured in the dream, and I stood looking at it for a while.

[I think that the only other image that recurs as often as dogs is houses, and they’re the same four or five. All are large (which is not surprising, since in actuality I needed to provide a house for a family of six). One is a new house, of contemporary design, surrounded closely by trees, sometimes actually within the tree tops, the branches forming part of the construction of the third floor. It is unfinished, and it is my problem to finish it. Another is a very old, brick home, three stories, large rooms, that has seriously fallen into disrepair, and it’s my desire to restore it.

Those two houses have appeared in my dreams so often that they seem so strongly to be houses that I have actually owned (I’m living in my fifth), that sometimes I remember one of them during the day—and sometimes it feels so real to me that I have to think back over my actual houses and remember that, no, that one was not among them.]

[7-30:  It’s Saturday and somehow nothing woke me before 7:00. As I woke I realized that I had just then been dreaming, about preparations for building a house.]

I was fifty-something, and a thirty-something male friend with family was going to build a house. He had the lot for it, and since I had built a house we went to his site to think about placing the house. It seemed to be a typical, neighborhood sized lot, with a neighboring house close by. We found, also, that there was a square lay-out of narrow sidewalk on the lot, as if there might have been a house there before.

We walked around, talking about his house plans and where to place the house. Then we decided to take a break for lunch, so we went to a small, near-by restaurant. When we finished eating he went to the restroom and I sat thinking. It occurred to me that we didn’t necessarily have to place the house where the former house had been.

When we were back at his lot, I told him my new idea, and he said, yes, he had thought about that too. So we walked farther into the lot. It was larger than it had first appeared, and when we got to the back of it we saw that we were standing at the top of a very high hill, more like a low mountain. With the house placed here, it would look far down and out across a valley, with lower, rolling hills and a few houses, to the slopes of the opposite mountain. We felt very pleased about that opening of a vista.

As we returned to the truck, we met a man, sixty-something, working in the backyard of the house next door. He was carrying a bucket, probably containing seeds. We said hello and learned that he was the father of the woman who lived in that house. She came outside and we met her.

[Btw, being seventy-something, I suppose that when the brain is being unconscious (which of course is almost all the time) time is more clearly and usefully an archetypal pattern in its imagining (including its images, stories, and conversations), than when it is being conscious.  And of course its being both, all the time.]


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