Don't think I'm crazy...
Last night I had a dream...
(All we have to do is jump OVER the moon!)
No. I'm kidding. I actually did have a dream. It was one of those dreams that just stays with you. It kind of lingers on the edges of your consiousness all day, and it effects your idle thoughts.
In my dream, I was in the highest level of a really big house. There was yellow sunlight streaming through high, curving windows. The light on the western half of the room (and it was a big room) fell on hardwood maple, turning it gold-red. On the eastern half, there was alabaster marble. Someone was playing an insturment that was sometimes a grand piano, and someimtes a spanish guitar. (I don't know how, I don't think it's important). You know how dreams are more about what you KNOW to be true than what actually happens? Well, I knew the house was mine...or rather I belonged to the house. It's still hard to think of something like that house as a possesion. But I belonged there. I didn't know who the man was playing the piano or guitar, but I didn't mind. The room was mostly empty- there was a round table covered with a big perfectly white cloth, and there was a bathtub in a dias, with steps leading up to it and places for candles to go. It was beautiful- and it sounds out of place, but it seemed right.
I could tell if I was standing still or dancing around, but I was waitirng for something.
Then the worst happened, and I woke up. It was 4:30 in the morning. I turned my head, and looked at Marion. I guess I woke him up too, because he smiled at me and said "Go back to sleep baby"
so I did.
I was back in the house, back in the room, and the instrument was still going, but a window was open, and Marion was leaning out of it. I suddenly knew he was looking at a beach, and I walked over to look with him.
I woke up again at 6:00. Utterly happy.
I love dreams.
(All we have to do is jump OVER the moon!)
No. I'm kidding. I actually did have a dream. It was one of those dreams that just stays with you. It kind of lingers on the edges of your consiousness all day, and it effects your idle thoughts.
In my dream, I was in the highest level of a really big house. There was yellow sunlight streaming through high, curving windows. The light on the western half of the room (and it was a big room) fell on hardwood maple, turning it gold-red. On the eastern half, there was alabaster marble. Someone was playing an insturment that was sometimes a grand piano, and someimtes a spanish guitar. (I don't know how, I don't think it's important). You know how dreams are more about what you KNOW to be true than what actually happens? Well, I knew the house was mine...or rather I belonged to the house. It's still hard to think of something like that house as a possesion. But I belonged there. I didn't know who the man was playing the piano or guitar, but I didn't mind. The room was mostly empty- there was a round table covered with a big perfectly white cloth, and there was a bathtub in a dias, with steps leading up to it and places for candles to go. It was beautiful- and it sounds out of place, but it seemed right.
I could tell if I was standing still or dancing around, but I was waitirng for something.
Then the worst happened, and I woke up. It was 4:30 in the morning. I turned my head, and looked at Marion. I guess I woke him up too, because he smiled at me and said "Go back to sleep baby"
so I did.
I was back in the house, back in the room, and the instrument was still going, but a window was open, and Marion was leaning out of it. I suddenly knew he was looking at a beach, and I walked over to look with him.
I woke up again at 6:00. Utterly happy.
I love dreams.