this is about as normal as my dreams ever get
Last night I dreamed that my parents, my sister, and I were on a road trip like we used to do when Vicky and I were kids -- actually, I think that in the dream, Vicky and I were both teenagers again. We were heading to Minnesota, which is normal. But we were driving around in a big white van with, like, folding beds and curtains in the back instead of a regular car.
Vicky was fooling around online and found a report of a woman who'd come home with her young daughter and found three strangers in her attic laying out bodies on the furniture and floor. Obviously she panicked and ran out.
Vicky decided we should investigate this, and for some reason Mom and Dad thought this was a great idea. I was really tired and just wanted a nap, but didn't object.
So we drove up to this house and went in, armed with flashlights and hammers and stuff (also cell phones, because duh), and found three perfectly normal people -- two men and one woman -- who were under the impression they had just bought the house from a real estate broker and were really confused about the woman and child who'd interrupted them as they arranged crash test dummies in the attic to see how best to subdivide it into rooms for their planned bed and breakfast.
The homeowner and the B&B folks started having a really loud argument on the staircase, which my parents tried to mediate. Vicky went off into the kitchen to play phone games with the homeowner's kid. I was trying to take a nap on a sofa in the living room, but the argument about who owned the house was too loud for me to sleep, and I got grumpier and grumpier until I couldn't take it anymore.
"Have you tried calling the broker?" I asked.
Dead silence from the staircase.
"Oh," everyone said more or less at once, and they trooped into the kitchen to try being productive.
I then fell asleep and had a dream within a dream, about
alexseanchai setting up a Patreon and writing a script-form story in realtime while incorporating readers' comments. I don't remember what the story was about, just that I thought it was interesting and also that the posting interface was terrible (dark gray text on light gray background) which struck me as something that had to be site-mandated since
alexseanchai wouldn't have chosen it voluntarily.
When I woke up back into the first dream, the homeowner and the B&B folks had placed a video call to the broker, who was a wispy, eighty-something man sitting behind a massive oak desk. He had gotten several properties mixed up, such that the B&B folks and the homeowner had BOTH legally purchased the house in question. The broker was defensively apologetic, especially since both parties were threatening to sue.
"It's a very large house!" he said. "Far too much for just two people. Why can't you open the B&B upstairs while Mrs. Homeowner still lives downstairs?"
The homeowner and the B&B folks looked at each other across the kitchen table.
"It is a very large house," said one of the B&B men. "That's why we wanted to buy it. And you don't seem to be using most of it."
"That's because it's a historic register building and the upper floors aren't up to code. That's how I could afford it in the first place," said the homeowner. "I needed a place with a big yard and away from other people, because my daughter is sensitive and needs quiet and places she can hide when the world gets overwhelming. A B&B has too many people around."
They stared at each other.
Vicky and I exchanged looks. "Have you asked your daughter what she wants?" Vicky asked.
"Um," said the homeowner.
"I don't mind, as long as I have a quiet room," the daughter said, kicking her heels against her chair and not looking up from her iPad. "I'm not delicate. I just have to be able to get away when everything goes red and buzzy."
And so they renovated the upper floors of the house -- which turned out to be MASSIVE, because it used to be the summer lake home of an eccentric movie mogul who loved secret passages and improbable staircases, and also had a private full-size movie theater on the fourth floor -- and all lived happily ever after.
Meanwhile I wasn't tired anymore but now desperately needed a bathroom except Mom and Dad wanted to hit the road immediately to make up the time we'd lost...
But that's another dream. :)
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comments)
Vicky was fooling around online and found a report of a woman who'd come home with her young daughter and found three strangers in her attic laying out bodies on the furniture and floor. Obviously she panicked and ran out.
Vicky decided we should investigate this, and for some reason Mom and Dad thought this was a great idea. I was really tired and just wanted a nap, but didn't object.
So we drove up to this house and went in, armed with flashlights and hammers and stuff (also cell phones, because duh), and found three perfectly normal people -- two men and one woman -- who were under the impression they had just bought the house from a real estate broker and were really confused about the woman and child who'd interrupted them as they arranged crash test dummies in the attic to see how best to subdivide it into rooms for their planned bed and breakfast.
The homeowner and the B&B folks started having a really loud argument on the staircase, which my parents tried to mediate. Vicky went off into the kitchen to play phone games with the homeowner's kid. I was trying to take a nap on a sofa in the living room, but the argument about who owned the house was too loud for me to sleep, and I got grumpier and grumpier until I couldn't take it anymore.
"Have you tried calling the broker?" I asked.
Dead silence from the staircase.
"Oh," everyone said more or less at once, and they trooped into the kitchen to try being productive.
I then fell asleep and had a dream within a dream, about
alexseanchai setting up a Patreon and writing a script-form story in realtime while incorporating readers' comments. I don't remember what the story was about, just that I thought it was interesting and also that the posting interface was terrible (dark gray text on light gray background) which struck me as something that had to be site-mandated since
alexseanchai wouldn't have chosen it voluntarily.
When I woke up back into the first dream, the homeowner and the B&B folks had placed a video call to the broker, who was a wispy, eighty-something man sitting behind a massive oak desk. He had gotten several properties mixed up, such that the B&B folks and the homeowner had BOTH legally purchased the house in question. The broker was defensively apologetic, especially since both parties were threatening to sue.
"It's a very large house!" he said. "Far too much for just two people. Why can't you open the B&B upstairs while Mrs. Homeowner still lives downstairs?"
The homeowner and the B&B folks looked at each other across the kitchen table.
"It is a very large house," said one of the B&B men. "That's why we wanted to buy it. And you don't seem to be using most of it."
"That's because it's a historic register building and the upper floors aren't up to code. That's how I could afford it in the first place," said the homeowner. "I needed a place with a big yard and away from other people, because my daughter is sensitive and needs quiet and places she can hide when the world gets overwhelming. A B&B has too many people around."
They stared at each other.
Vicky and I exchanged looks. "Have you asked your daughter what she wants?" Vicky asked.
"Um," said the homeowner.
"I don't mind, as long as I have a quiet room," the daughter said, kicking her heels against her chair and not looking up from her iPad. "I'm not delicate. I just have to be able to get away when everything goes red and buzzy."
And so they renovated the upper floors of the house -- which turned out to be MASSIVE, because it used to be the summer lake home of an eccentric movie mogul who loved secret passages and improbable staircases, and also had a private full-size movie theater on the fourth floor -- and all lived happily ever after.
Meanwhile I wasn't tired anymore but now desperately needed a bathroom except Mom and Dad wanted to hit the road immediately to make up the time we'd lost...
But that's another dream. :)
If you want to comment on this post, you can do so over here on Dreamwidth, where there are currently (
comments)