I wonder how long I will have to live in a place before I dream it’s home…

I never dream about the apartment I live in now. I have never dreamed about the house I used to share with my (now ex) wife. I have never dreamed about the duplex I lived in before that. I dream constantly about the house my mom still lives in just outside Ann Arbor, where I did most of my growing up. I don’t ever dream about the three or four places we lived before moving there, either… Toledo, Pittsburgh, Virginia…

It’s always that house, that yard, that gravel driveway (it’s paved now).

Like last night, when I dreamed that Amanda Palmer was on tour and needed a place to crash after a show, so I volunteered my old bedroom, where we chatted long into the night about the rigors and joys of the touring life, and then fell asleep together on my old twin bed.

Which is ridiculous, really, for many reasons. But it was briefly cozy in my mind.

After that, (or maybe before, it’s hard to remember), I dreamed about following a strange sport in which a bowling tournament was held in a series of impromptu alleys set up in various barns and abandoned buildings; and participants had to run or bike from one location to the next after each set of “frames” (or whatever they’re called if you don’t have the actual framey-things).

There was a strange, tall man in a lab coat standing by, perhaps a medic? He had a long kitchen knife which he used to scrape out the inside of his right eye-socket, which was empty. He explained that he used to have a prosthesis, but he got tired of it falling out or needing adjustment, so he just stopped wearing it. Also, he enjoyed freaking people out by putting a knife in his eye-socket. I shared with him a (fictitious) story about a teacher I once had in grade school with no feeling in his right leg, the result of some wayward shrapnel in ‘Nam. He used to “accidentally” drop a bowling ball on his foot to alarm people.

I must have gotten that from Adam Sandler.


~ by oberon the fool on January 28, 2009.

2 Responses to “I wonder how long I will have to live in a place before I dream it’s home…”

  1. maybe those places never had the same kind of an effect on you. or maybe our dreams are fueled by our child/baby brains – which are closer to the imagery, sounds, and whatnot than our adult ones and remember best our earlier homes. and maybe our adult selves are so busy being in other places that *home* really is just a state of mind, and not where you lay yourself down to sleep.

    i dream of my folks’ house (which is the only one i knew, because we never moved), and my grandparents’ summer house (but never their actual one), and i used to dream of my friend Cathy Jo’s house a lot – it had an attic room which was reachable by this long staircase that you had to go into through a door that was directly beyond the front entryway. it’s probably where i get a lot of the basis for my “hidden places” dreams, because i was so surprised that there was this part of their house that i hadn’t known about.

    Amanda Palmer is in Australia and New Zealand! and, so are (or will be) Iron Maiden! think of all the people we could see if we went! of course, we probably couldn’t afford to go to any shows once we got there. :)

  2. I don’t really get anything from my baby brain… I can remember some stuff from before living in that house, but it pretty much never comes up in dreams. I think it’s just that I lived there the longest, and they were my “formative” years, I guess. I dunno.

    Hidden places are awesome ^_^

    Last night I dreamed I opened a unit and there was a giant, juicy maraschino cherry with a sharp stem inside, moving around. I was confused until I realized it was being carried by one of those huge, arm-long centipedes. I had two assistants who were vikings or something, and as I took apart another unit and revealed a dead specimen inside it, I exhorted to them about the wonders of Science!

    It was very strange.

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