I always watch my dreams to see what could be deep inside me, waiting for the moment I fall asleep to come out. There has been a theme that keeps popping up ever since May that will not leave me alone.
I keep dreaming of my house.
Whether it's me waking up back in my bunk bed, hitting my head on the ceiling to my father coming in to tell me to get up and start chores as the sun is streaming in my paper blinds or sneaking in the now-owners house to see them turn it into a multicolored beach house with a jacuzzi in the living room, I keep returning to that "white house with the black top and the brown fence" as I used to describe it when I was little.
My most recent dream happened only a few nights ago. My boyfriend was gone for the weekend, and I had a dream that I was driving with him in his Jeep to pick his father up for something. I didn't know what it was, but I flashed from having him walk up the steps to be standing in my TV room. Everyone was there. My mom's side of the family had made all the food, and my reenacting group was scattered across the yard. It looked exactly the same. The wall unit was there with all the books in it, my family portrait was on the wall. The tan couch and chair was facing the TV, and the kitchen table had all sorts of food, bowls of chips and pop on top. They said it was a "Gettysburg Party", not for graduation, but for just being there. I felt like it was a graduation party, but I turned to my right to find Bobby next to me in my house. I immediately knew something was wrong.
You've never been in my house. What are you doing here?
I continued to my back yard to find my family around the fireplace, the green lawn chairs exactly the same as they were for all other parties. My boyfriend's father was sitting in the middle, telling a particularly funny story as everyone laughed. He pointed to me in the sliding door, going into the same sweet story he tells me every time I visit. "I always knew something was gonna happen between these two the moment I saw them together. The sparks were flying!"
I felt home. Smiles on everyone's faces, and energy bouncing off every wall. I came back into the TV room to find some of the members of my reenacting group on the couch watching Gods and Generals, and I knew I was beginning to wake up.
"I have the music for this song," My aunt said as she said on the recliner across the room from me. "I have the music for banjo."
I remember laughing, telling her I would sing it for her. She got all excited, and I went outside to tell my boyfriend that the song at the beginning always reminded me of him, and I felt like I missed him...
And I woke up.
I can't seem to get my house out of my head. I found myself crying the other night about how I feel like I want to go back to my home. Not the town, or the area, but the house. I want to walk in to find my things in my room. I want my family together, with our picture frames and home-videos close by. I want to know where all my writings, my stories, my keepsakes, my journals, my books are at. I feel like I have no where to go. The place where we are at now has no space for me. I come home, and I immediately clutter the small space my parents and little sister live in now.
I guess I'm trying to find out what these dreams mean. Why do I keep dreaming about my house. I've gone through almost every single room, including the garage and drive way. I've finally moved on to the backyard, but I always feel lost when I wake up. I can't go back home. I want to. I want to go back home to the home, where everyone is in that house with the joyful noise and chaos. With my dad putting music on on Saturday morning to do chores or to my mom sitting and talking to me on her bed as we waste hours away trying to do laundry with Titanic on the TV for the millionth time.
For the owners of 891 Churchill Dr, I'm glad you let us come out East. But please, don't forget about the family that lived there. Don't turn my house into a beach house, and don't peel the paint back in the back left bedroom about 6 feet off the ground. You'll find my name with a smiley-face and the date that I scribbled when I was young. It should stay there forever.
~E
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