Tuesday, May 24, 2005

like Topsy 

In my dream, I'm moving into my new house. I've arrived and I'm waiting for the furniture van. I walk through the house, admiring the empty space, the bare stone walls, the generous fireplaces. Then it occurs to me; my house doesn't look like this. This isn't my house. I'm in the wrong house. The van pulls up outside and the men begin unloading my furniture. I try to tell them: "Stop! This is the wrong house! This isn't my house!" but they can't hear me above the noise. It's very, very noisy.

I rush round, frantically trying to tell them to stop. But they don't hear. They keep unloading, putting furniture in the appointed rooms. But there are so many of them! At every turn, through every doorway, there's another room. Too many rooms. I'm panicking. This isn't my house, *and* it's too big. There are too many, many too many rooms. My furniture will never fit.

The van is unloaded. The men drive off.

I am left in the wrong house, with too many rooms.

posted by Silver Lining

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