New Friends and a B&B
Last night I dreamed about...
New Friends and a Bed & Breakfast
This was a very long, complicated, and extremely clear dream. It happened somewhere between 4 and 5 am, or 5 and 6 am (my kitten woke me up twice before I actually got up, and I slept and dreamt in the intervals). This dream was so clear and so vivid that even now, over twelve hours later and having barely thought about it all day, I can still remember it.
I was in Montreal, grocery shopping. I lived alone in an apartment, but my parents' house was fairly close by as well. We lived in the same city. I was doing groceries at a small fruiterie in a part of town that I've never been before. There were a lot of brick duplexes. Fairly depressing weather- very gray and wintery. As I was on my way home, carrying a small bag of groceries, I walked by a rather large house. It was a proper 3 storey building, with a gabled attic, like I would see at home except that it was also made out of brick.
There were a few people on the veranda having tea. One of them was a large girl, maybe my size, but she was dressed kind of like she was from the 1920s. Well, inspired by the 1920s. She wore a dull pink satin cocoon coat with either a black fur shawl collar or a black lace shawl. Small black pillbox hat, possibly with a small lace veil. Betty Boop style makeup. She looked really odd but also great. There were 2 or 3 people with her. All I remember about them was that one of them was a lanky nattily-dressed gay man. They were all in their mid-twenties, and although I had passed by this house before, I had never seen noticed it or them.
I guess I lingered as I walked by, surprised that they were having afternoon tea with china cups and finger sandwiches outdoors in winter. The girl called out to me, and I went up the veranda steps to talk to her. I asked who they were, and what they did. She said that they had newly opened a bed and breakfast in the house, and it was a success. They all lived and worked there together- one of them was a fabulous cook, and another baked, and I think the girl was in charge of the house itself.
I became friends with the girl. I often visited the house, and spent a lot of my free time with her and her friends. This wasn't necessarily a good thing- I think I was spending too much time with them, and I kind of wanted to scale it back because I wasn't sure that I wanted my life to graft onto theirs. I wanted my own space and my freedom.
I didn't act on this though. I was in their house as usual, and I was pitching in with the laundry for the guests. I was ironing shirts. The iron was the old-fashioned kind that is simply a hunk of metal that you have to heat on a fire. It was a hassle to use and it required that I do the ironing in the kitchen, but I did it anyway. I put the iron away and helped the girl in another area of the house.
Some time later we smelled smoke. We rushed down the stairs and as we passed the kitchen, we saw our other friends flailing around the kitchen. Two pans of something were on fire, and they clearly didn't know what to do. "BAKING-" I screamed at them as I passed by. I hesitated, couldn't remember if it was SODA or POWDER that I wanted to yell. I couldn't think straight. The girl pulled at my hand urgently and yanked me outside as I yelled "SODA!" belatedly, repeating the phrase over and over but I knew they couldn't hear me now.
They broke a window in the kitchen and escaped as well.
Fire fighters arrived, and tried to put out the blaze. The girl and I walked quickly away from the burning house.
I knew that the fire was my fault. I hadn't put the iron away properly- I had put it back on the stove on a hot burner, convinced that someone else had turned the burner off. Obviously they hadn't, and the iron had burst into flames, causing the other stuff on the stove to catch fire. I felt so guilty and horrified by what I had done.
I went to my parents' house. They knew what had happened- it was big news, obviously- but they didn't know that I was friends with the people involved, and of course they didn't know I was responsible. It was my guilty secret.
I went walking a week after it happened. I saw the hollowed, fire-wrecked buildings for a block around the bed and breakfast, and I knew I was going to have to take responsibility and turn myself in to the police. I made up my mind to go to the police station, but first I walked by the bed and breakfast one last time. I hadn't seen any of my friends from there since the night of the fire, and I wanted to look at the wreckage.
Instead I saw them having tea again on their veranda. The windows were boarded up, but they greeted me calmly and said that although the entire block of houses had been destroyed, the bed and breakfast could be salvaged. It just needed a little work. I was horrified by their nonchalant manner and calm acceptance that their business would continue and thrive, even though a dozen people's homes were destroyed. I remember thinking that they didn't deserve the bed and breakfast- they were terrible people. It crossed my mind that although I was at fault for the fire, they had contributed to it too- but they were obviously not going to take responsibility.
I turned away from them with the bitter conviction that I was a better person than they were, but I was also going to have my life ruined for it and probably go to jail.
ANALYSIS: Wow, dream-me doesn't know how fires are started, I guess.
I understand what my subconscious was going for- RESPONSIBILITY. This applies to things in my life. I get it.
But the rest of it? Hmmm. I did see on the news last night about a driver walking away from a car crash that he caused, killing the two people in the car with him. He walked away and eventually turned himself in to police. And the fire I understand- there was a small fire in my apartment building last month, and I have been nervous about fire ever since.
Strange, strange dream.
New Friends and a Bed & Breakfast
This was a very long, complicated, and extremely clear dream. It happened somewhere between 4 and 5 am, or 5 and 6 am (my kitten woke me up twice before I actually got up, and I slept and dreamt in the intervals). This dream was so clear and so vivid that even now, over twelve hours later and having barely thought about it all day, I can still remember it.
I was in Montreal, grocery shopping. I lived alone in an apartment, but my parents' house was fairly close by as well. We lived in the same city. I was doing groceries at a small fruiterie in a part of town that I've never been before. There were a lot of brick duplexes. Fairly depressing weather- very gray and wintery. As I was on my way home, carrying a small bag of groceries, I walked by a rather large house. It was a proper 3 storey building, with a gabled attic, like I would see at home except that it was also made out of brick.
There were a few people on the veranda having tea. One of them was a large girl, maybe my size, but she was dressed kind of like she was from the 1920s. Well, inspired by the 1920s. She wore a dull pink satin cocoon coat with either a black fur shawl collar or a black lace shawl. Small black pillbox hat, possibly with a small lace veil. Betty Boop style makeup. She looked really odd but also great. There were 2 or 3 people with her. All I remember about them was that one of them was a lanky nattily-dressed gay man. They were all in their mid-twenties, and although I had passed by this house before, I had never seen noticed it or them.
I guess I lingered as I walked by, surprised that they were having afternoon tea with china cups and finger sandwiches outdoors in winter. The girl called out to me, and I went up the veranda steps to talk to her. I asked who they were, and what they did. She said that they had newly opened a bed and breakfast in the house, and it was a success. They all lived and worked there together- one of them was a fabulous cook, and another baked, and I think the girl was in charge of the house itself.
I became friends with the girl. I often visited the house, and spent a lot of my free time with her and her friends. This wasn't necessarily a good thing- I think I was spending too much time with them, and I kind of wanted to scale it back because I wasn't sure that I wanted my life to graft onto theirs. I wanted my own space and my freedom.
I didn't act on this though. I was in their house as usual, and I was pitching in with the laundry for the guests. I was ironing shirts. The iron was the old-fashioned kind that is simply a hunk of metal that you have to heat on a fire. It was a hassle to use and it required that I do the ironing in the kitchen, but I did it anyway. I put the iron away and helped the girl in another area of the house.
Some time later we smelled smoke. We rushed down the stairs and as we passed the kitchen, we saw our other friends flailing around the kitchen. Two pans of something were on fire, and they clearly didn't know what to do. "BAKING-" I screamed at them as I passed by. I hesitated, couldn't remember if it was SODA or POWDER that I wanted to yell. I couldn't think straight. The girl pulled at my hand urgently and yanked me outside as I yelled "SODA!" belatedly, repeating the phrase over and over but I knew they couldn't hear me now.
They broke a window in the kitchen and escaped as well.
Fire fighters arrived, and tried to put out the blaze. The girl and I walked quickly away from the burning house.
I knew that the fire was my fault. I hadn't put the iron away properly- I had put it back on the stove on a hot burner, convinced that someone else had turned the burner off. Obviously they hadn't, and the iron had burst into flames, causing the other stuff on the stove to catch fire. I felt so guilty and horrified by what I had done.
I went to my parents' house. They knew what had happened- it was big news, obviously- but they didn't know that I was friends with the people involved, and of course they didn't know I was responsible. It was my guilty secret.
I went walking a week after it happened. I saw the hollowed, fire-wrecked buildings for a block around the bed and breakfast, and I knew I was going to have to take responsibility and turn myself in to the police. I made up my mind to go to the police station, but first I walked by the bed and breakfast one last time. I hadn't seen any of my friends from there since the night of the fire, and I wanted to look at the wreckage.
Instead I saw them having tea again on their veranda. The windows were boarded up, but they greeted me calmly and said that although the entire block of houses had been destroyed, the bed and breakfast could be salvaged. It just needed a little work. I was horrified by their nonchalant manner and calm acceptance that their business would continue and thrive, even though a dozen people's homes were destroyed. I remember thinking that they didn't deserve the bed and breakfast- they were terrible people. It crossed my mind that although I was at fault for the fire, they had contributed to it too- but they were obviously not going to take responsibility.
I turned away from them with the bitter conviction that I was a better person than they were, but I was also going to have my life ruined for it and probably go to jail.
ANALYSIS: Wow, dream-me doesn't know how fires are started, I guess.
I understand what my subconscious was going for- RESPONSIBILITY. This applies to things in my life. I get it.
But the rest of it? Hmmm. I did see on the news last night about a driver walking away from a car crash that he caused, killing the two people in the car with him. He walked away and eventually turned himself in to police. And the fire I understand- there was a small fire in my apartment building last month, and I have been nervous about fire ever since.
Strange, strange dream.