Dreaming...
This one's a little iffy in parts because I kept trying to go back to sleep afterwards.
I'm sitting in the front room of our old house on South Highland. The house has been redone and this has been turned into kind of a media room with a couch and a big TV. Through the open French doors I can see the living room which is nearly empty but has beautiful hardwood floors that shine in the light from the kitchen. Whenever the sun was deep in the west, it gave the kitchen a golden glow - I always loved that. We have just done something (I don't know who 'we' are or what 'we' did). I'm watching TV when I hear someone at the front door. I think it might be the other part of 'we' so I don't say anything. A man walks into the living room and looks around. He's wearing a navy or black pea coat, has silvery shortish hair, and looks just like someone I knew in Monterey*. I don't recognize him as belonging here and he doesn't see me for some reason. I watch, not that curiously, but more of a 'what now, gorramit?!?' He searches the living room but doesn't find what he's looking for, then he moves into the dining room and I hear him open the door to the closet under the stairs. Now I'm mad -- I get up and walk over to the dining room. He's digging pretty deep in his quest for whatever he's looking for. I say "Hey, what are you doing?" and grab the sleeve of his jacket. He shakes off my hand and keeps delving deep in the closet. I try again a few times without success, and then apparently he doesn't find what he's looking for because he pops out of the closet and looks at me. That's enough for me -- I take off, I think running through the kitchen and down into the basement -- how stupid can you get?! - but luckily he is still concentrating as much on what he's looking for as on catching me. Somehow or other I get him out of the house and unable to get back in. I stand in the front yard watching him circle the house, trying to open a way back in.
The dream gets a little muddy here for a while; I think I went and did something and then came back. Now I'm sitting on my front porch and I see MA coming down the street. I call her over and tell her about what I'd just done and we decide to walk to the big store. We head down the street. We notice a bunch of classic cars. I think I see a nice Trans Am but MA says it's a Camaro. There are also 3 or 4 El Caminos all jockeying for parking position; unfortunately, they're all light-colored, I like my El Caminos in dark colors. MA is talking cars and I"m watching the El Caminos and then we're at the store. We go through stacks of really nice tops, put on the ones we like, and then go through more stacks.
The rest is gone. I think I may have ended up on an army post - I usually do ;-) - but that's all I remember. I thought it was cool that MA was in this dream about our old house being fixed. The house was an old farmhouse that was moved into the city on one of those huge building-moving tractor/truck things, like the Cape Hatteras light. They did that in Detroit too when they were building ... maybe Ford Field? - they moved the Gem Theatre to a new location instead of tearing it down. I haven't seen it but Gorramsister says it's beautiful on the inside. Anyway, all of us kids watched this house get moved in and set on its foundation, we only lived a half block away at the time. I loved the door and window trim - it was old-fashioned with the part that looks like crown molding at the top, but most important it was this gorgeous red-brown color that was all bubbled up and cracked from years and layers of whatever it was they used. Shellac? Lacquer? Lacquer seems unlikely, but maybe they put a coat of shellac over it. MA would know what it was if she saw it. The kitchen was big but it had hardly any cupboard space. Heck, it had 5 doors and 3 windows! Not a lot of wall space and even part of that was taken up by the chimney flue jutting out from the wall not a foot and a half from the corner. What could you fit in a foot and a half? *shrug* The walls were beadboard on the bottom and wallpaper on the top. To make up for the lack of cupboard space, there was a huge pantry with built-in cupboards above and below. The upper cupboards had old glass doors. *sigh* Naturally we took it for granted when we were younger, but it was really nice. For us, it was always a mess with a pile of winter coats and boots from 5 girls taking up the back 3 or 4 feet. Upstairs were 3 bedrooms with the slanted ceilings from the gables and a big hall room that we used as another bedroom (5 girls!). My parents slept downstairs in the front bedroom. I never got a room of my own there, the closest I got was the upstairs hall but it was open to the stairs and, well, the hall! ;-)
*About the dream guy: This guy was the manager of the legion bar down in Monterey. Nice guy, not really my type at the time. He went out partying with another friend, a marine named Steve, a girl, and possibly someone else though I don't remember the details. They were coming back from Pacific Grove or Carmel in Steve's new Jeep and he rolled the car. I can't remember if it was raining or if he was avoiding something. The girl was killed. :-( I wish I remembered her name but I'd only met her a time or two. The dream guy was badly hurt - I don't think he actually broke his back but I think he had a lot of pelvic and leg fractures. Steve was hurt but not that bad. If there was another person, he walked away pretty much. Steve was driving so it was his fault and he got court-martialed for it. He had a pretty good career going for him, too bad how one error in judgment can ruin a life. I hope he's doing better now; perhaps 23 years is long enough to get over it. But I bet the girl's parents still cry at night sometimes. :-(
I'm sitting in the front room of our old house on South Highland. The house has been redone and this has been turned into kind of a media room with a couch and a big TV. Through the open French doors I can see the living room which is nearly empty but has beautiful hardwood floors that shine in the light from the kitchen. Whenever the sun was deep in the west, it gave the kitchen a golden glow - I always loved that. We have just done something (I don't know who 'we' are or what 'we' did). I'm watching TV when I hear someone at the front door. I think it might be the other part of 'we' so I don't say anything. A man walks into the living room and looks around. He's wearing a navy or black pea coat, has silvery shortish hair, and looks just like someone I knew in Monterey*. I don't recognize him as belonging here and he doesn't see me for some reason. I watch, not that curiously, but more of a 'what now, gorramit?!?' He searches the living room but doesn't find what he's looking for, then he moves into the dining room and I hear him open the door to the closet under the stairs. Now I'm mad -- I get up and walk over to the dining room. He's digging pretty deep in his quest for whatever he's looking for. I say "Hey, what are you doing?" and grab the sleeve of his jacket. He shakes off my hand and keeps delving deep in the closet. I try again a few times without success, and then apparently he doesn't find what he's looking for because he pops out of the closet and looks at me. That's enough for me -- I take off, I think running through the kitchen and down into the basement -- how stupid can you get?! - but luckily he is still concentrating as much on what he's looking for as on catching me. Somehow or other I get him out of the house and unable to get back in. I stand in the front yard watching him circle the house, trying to open a way back in.
The dream gets a little muddy here for a while; I think I went and did something and then came back. Now I'm sitting on my front porch and I see MA coming down the street. I call her over and tell her about what I'd just done and we decide to walk to the big store. We head down the street. We notice a bunch of classic cars. I think I see a nice Trans Am but MA says it's a Camaro. There are also 3 or 4 El Caminos all jockeying for parking position; unfortunately, they're all light-colored, I like my El Caminos in dark colors. MA is talking cars and I"m watching the El Caminos and then we're at the store. We go through stacks of really nice tops, put on the ones we like, and then go through more stacks.
The rest is gone. I think I may have ended up on an army post - I usually do ;-) - but that's all I remember. I thought it was cool that MA was in this dream about our old house being fixed. The house was an old farmhouse that was moved into the city on one of those huge building-moving tractor/truck things, like the Cape Hatteras light. They did that in Detroit too when they were building ... maybe Ford Field? - they moved the Gem Theatre to a new location instead of tearing it down. I haven't seen it but Gorramsister says it's beautiful on the inside. Anyway, all of us kids watched this house get moved in and set on its foundation, we only lived a half block away at the time. I loved the door and window trim - it was old-fashioned with the part that looks like crown molding at the top, but most important it was this gorgeous red-brown color that was all bubbled up and cracked from years and layers of whatever it was they used. Shellac? Lacquer? Lacquer seems unlikely, but maybe they put a coat of shellac over it. MA would know what it was if she saw it. The kitchen was big but it had hardly any cupboard space. Heck, it had 5 doors and 3 windows! Not a lot of wall space and even part of that was taken up by the chimney flue jutting out from the wall not a foot and a half from the corner. What could you fit in a foot and a half? *shrug* The walls were beadboard on the bottom and wallpaper on the top. To make up for the lack of cupboard space, there was a huge pantry with built-in cupboards above and below. The upper cupboards had old glass doors. *sigh* Naturally we took it for granted when we were younger, but it was really nice. For us, it was always a mess with a pile of winter coats and boots from 5 girls taking up the back 3 or 4 feet. Upstairs were 3 bedrooms with the slanted ceilings from the gables and a big hall room that we used as another bedroom (5 girls!). My parents slept downstairs in the front bedroom. I never got a room of my own there, the closest I got was the upstairs hall but it was open to the stairs and, well, the hall! ;-)
*About the dream guy: This guy was the manager of the legion bar down in Monterey. Nice guy, not really my type at the time. He went out partying with another friend, a marine named Steve, a girl, and possibly someone else though I don't remember the details. They were coming back from Pacific Grove or Carmel in Steve's new Jeep and he rolled the car. I can't remember if it was raining or if he was avoiding something. The girl was killed. :-( I wish I remembered her name but I'd only met her a time or two. The dream guy was badly hurt - I don't think he actually broke his back but I think he had a lot of pelvic and leg fractures. Steve was hurt but not that bad. If there was another person, he walked away pretty much. Steve was driving so it was his fault and he got court-martialed for it. He had a pretty good career going for him, too bad how one error in judgment can ruin a life. I hope he's doing better now; perhaps 23 years is long enough to get over it. But I bet the girl's parents still cry at night sometimes. :-(