Most dreams have horrible aspects to them that make me glad "it was only a dream" when I wake up. However, the last part of this dream was wonderful...I want to go back.

The first part I was in my parent's house specifically my former bedroom upstairs. I was looking at the ceiling above the door. It was busted up and I could see a pipe--plumber's pipe (there'd be no reason to have a pipe up there IRL). I kept thinking, "this is weird, because in dreams I look at the ceiling in this bedroom and it is crumbling or is busted" but I didn't realize that *this* was a dream too. Lucid dreamer I am not.

In the second part of the dream, I am trying on odd clothes...weird plastic yellow jackets and large bulky pants. I am getting ready for halloween, however I have no idea what I am supposed to be dressed as. At this point, I am in contact with some people and I'm asking them if I could get the house in New York state where I lived as a kid from 1969-1971. Later, I am driving by that house in New York, and I see some guys kicking some people out of it. I assume I am with Stan in the dream, but I don't know. We stop at the house and we ask what is going on. The guys (who are maybe in their mid-30s and speak with a heavy upstate New York accent, which is similar to a nasal version of a upper midwest accent) tell me they were getting the house ready for me and evicting the current occupants. I was in awe. The house was much bigger than it is IRL, painted white, with a red door (it was bayberry green when I lived there, and when we drove by it on our trip out east in 2002 it had been painted pale blue). It had lots of new additions on it in the dream. I walked into one of them, which was at garden/garage level. It was a large room like a playroom, very light colored. It had a tiled dropped ceiling to my dismay, but when I looked closer I saw that the tiles had been painted by me, 35 years ago. I am overjoyed and telling every anonymous person who was around me, "I made this!" I was especially struck how mature my art style was back then and how similar it is to my style now (which is obviously wrong). Then I go into the basement, which is much bigger than how I remember the basement IRL. Someone had lined the floor with blue plastic bags as to not get paint on it. I look at the bags and they all have a design printed on them which is very similar to a lot of my square mosaic polymer clay tile and acrylic/metal leaf pieces. I am amazed at how this house has all these fragments and references to my art. The guys who kicked out the other people are heading off in their car, and I'm trying to catch up to them to ask them what do I owe them for this. They say something like "it's all yours!" and head off. I make some kind of gesture to them, thanking them profusely as they watch me while they're driving away. I don't know what to do now, I have this house, but do I rent it? Do I pay mortgage on it? How much? Do I own it outright? And although I can live anywhere, Stan will need to find a job, but that's a small price to pay for having this big house, especially if it's all mine.

Labels: Dreams