The places we go in dreams.......

I have dreamed several nights in a row of a place I have never been. A place I have never seen, but yet it seemed so utterly familiar to me. I try not to over analyze my dreams, but this one has got me thinking. I am driving in the country on some old gravel roads. It is a hot day, hazy, a day that in itself makes you long for a glass of iced tea and a porch swing. I turn onto a winding stretch of road and I see it. It is an old stone farmhouse with red shutters. There is an old picket fence out front, the gate hanging by one hinge and lazily swinging back in forth in the breeze. There is a lilac bush full of blooms and tell tale signs of a yard that was once loved growing up to weeds. Outside there is an inviting porch, the whole scene is so surreal and beckoning. I pull in the driveway and step out. The house itself is beautiful but haunting, sad almost. The cold contours of the stones and then the bright red shutters, outlined against the green grass and clouds. It's the sort of place you could never find if you didn't know it was there.

I walk up to the porch, it has seen better days. I step up to the door, I turn the knob and step inside. The floors are wood, and inside there is beautiful craftsmanship everywhere. Solid wood trim and a beautiful staircase, obviously painstakingly made, now in desperate need of love. The smell is stale, old, dusty. For some reason though, I find it delicious and familiar. I walk through the house, and notice tiny things. A pair of old white curtains gently swaying through the breeze of a broken window. A claw foot tub, sitting perfectly regal, yet on a half rotted floor. A cast iron kitchen sink, with a red rust stain at the bottom. I can imagine the people that built this house. The person who lovingly laid the stones, and planed the wood for the floors. The women who tended her gardens, and planted the lovely lilac bushes. I imagine the lilacs on the table, in the room with the white cotton curtains. I imagine a life there, a simple, uncomplicated life. I spend the afternoon on the porch.

So that's the dream. I have now dreamed it several times. Is it that I long to be lost where no one can find me? Do I long for long summer days of iced tea, lilacs, and clean white cotton curtains? And what is the significance of the red shutters. Is it that even though I long for these simple, uncomplicated things I still need that punch of red to spice things up? This dream has really got me thinking......