Last night, I dreamed my soul as a house

 My husband and I bought a house that we'd only seen from the outside. It was a super deal and we both loved the neighborhood--we had friends there, I think, so we knew the amenities. I have no idea who my husband was, he never actually appeared on stage. The more I think about it, the more I suspect he's actually my masculine side.

For me, the lure of the place was its architecture. One side of it was like an old gas station, a streamlined combination of Art Deco and Mid-Century Modern, while the other side was sort of a Victorian cottage. I walked up to the place from nearby. The neighbors across the street had a dog that barked and followed me from a distance. I gave him the nickname 'Fuss-Fuss'. 

The gas station side was open and renovations had started. There were contractors there when I got to the house. I introduced myself as the new owner and mentioned that this was the first time I'd actually been inside. The realtor was there with the keys, and we went into the courtyard between the two halves of the building. At one end, there was a huge flowering tree covered in sunflowers--I know, sunflowers don't grow on trees, but apparently my subconscious doesn't care about such botanical distinctions. The courtyard was magical--it was paved with smooth cobblestones, There were planters and window-boxes of flowers and a fountain in the center with a low wall that was just the right height to sit on. On one side, the Art Deco building had portholes and ledges (very Miami Beach-looking), while the Victorian side had hammered bronze awnings over the mullioned windows--one of them had a design of a sun and moon and a Venus of Willendorf--with the kind of patina you get when metal has been oiled--slightly iridescent in the sunshine.

We entered via the door next to the window with the canopy, and the room was floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. It was completely filled with books, and I was excited, looking forward to seeing what I had. I recognized Virginia Lanier's 'Bloodhound' series and was preparing to compare them to my own copies and keep whichever ones were in better shape. There were also piles of romance novels on one side of the room. I turned to SBJB (who had appeared and was walking along with me) and said, "Everybody I know is getting a media-mail carton of bodice-rippers this Christmas!"

We went into the adjoining room, which was quite different. It looked like a narrow one-car garage or repair bay--there was a roll-up door at one end--but it had rock posters on the wall and a lot of motorcycle stuff. I always wanted a car-themed game room, and I looked around planning how I could make that work here.

The second story...from the outside, the roof was scalloped metal like fish scales, with a patina. It was like a curved barn roof with a bunch of wrought-iron-type trim running the length of its spine. Inside, the only way up to it was a very narrow staircase and it had two modest windows, one at either end, and I was wondering how the hell we were going to get any kind of decent-sized bed up there when I woke up.

I can be impulsive; if I had that kind of money, I can imagine buying a house just because I fell in love with the architecture. The way I see it, I love old stuff and older stuff, hence the two sides of the place. The courtyard marries those two aspects; it was charming, someplace I could see myself sett;ling down with a book and a snack, outdoors, but not a space that's going to require a lot of mowing and maintenance.  

The two rooms I got a good look at are two things I love best: books--I can't begin to count how many hours I've spent in used bookstores in my lifetime!--and cars. I've had that car-themed game room in my head for decades, refining it as I see cool ideas. I think it's relevant that those were the rooms I toured in-depth. I got a glimpse of the common area in the Deco half--open plan with a good-sized space for a living-dining area and an open kitchen at the back--that was all MCM, but I didn't linger to admire it, because that was obvious. It's like the face you  present to the world, while who you are when your at home, when you're by yourself is different. Does that make sense?

If that's the case, than the 'realtor' may have been a therapist, unlocking doors for me into my psyche. S was a realtor, but she was never that unobtrusive in her life. This lady just guided me through the rooms, which I gather is the purpose of a therapist, to guide, but let you make the discoveries by yourself. I'm not sure why SBJB showed up. I don't recall her saying anything--although she's a very good listener and easy to get along with--but she DID help me send a number of large boxes of things media mail while I was relocating, so maybe that's it. 

It was a really sweet dream. That courtyard! I think that's going to be my new Happy Place. Not to mention a room with tons of shelves (Enough room for ALL my books, for once in my life!) and the potential game room...smaller than I had in mind, but with the right accouterments, still plenty of fun to be had...I'm scaling down some of my dreams as I get older, so that's definitely a metaphor for real life. I suspect that the bedroom issue reflects my general indifference to sex at this point--something of an afterthought. Never mind that! Let me show your our marvelous MCM home with a lovely long view of treetops and tiled roofs and the sea in the distance!

My invisible husband...at this point in my life, I have no especial desire to acquire a husband...(in this scenario, I was 40-ish), but if I did, I'd certainly prefer one who'd indulge me with gifts of eccentric real estate and not pester me with demands for sex. That's these days; I felt rather differently about the subject at 40, and I had the impression that we were a very cozy couple. Wish fulfillment, I suppose.

And now to rustle up some breakfast! I wanted to get this down while the details were still vivid.

....