I have a few dreams that come back to me over and over again. I’d say there are about a dozen of them, some returning more often than others. Last night, one of the “oldies but goodies” caught up to me.
There’s this house in my dream. I believe it’s either a Victorian mansion or a converted church of some sort, but I’m not sure. I never quite make it outside. The layout doesn’t really matter than much, either. It’s what happens in there that does.
It’s where I hide.
There is a stairway that leads to the second (or is it third?) floor. Up there is a room, and in that room is a closet. The closet has an overhead trap door which leads to a cubby-hole. Once inside the cubby-hole, I can squeeze into a winding passage that leads up, up, up – and into a nice cozy den.
This is not a den like people have in their homes. There is no cherry wood desk. There is no fireplace. There are no shelves stacked with books. No, this den is more like something a small bear (of mouse, given its size) would go to feel safe. This is where I go to hide.
It’s amazing, but every time I have this dream I awake feeling refreshed. It’s too bad I haven’t had this dream in so long.
Now, my dream house is sometimes larger. Sometimes it’s attached to a whole complex of buildings – an auditorium, some offices, various living quarters. But always – always there is the den.
Tags: dreams