lucyoncolorado

mostly fragments but the emotions of the dream were really strong


In which we are in a war zone...

We are living through a war. I remember only that our town had been completely reduced to rubble, and whether or not we were aware of the national situation was irrelevant since we were on our own anyway. It was the immediacy of the situation that I remember, not the plot. There were soldiers everywhere, not our own, and they were ordering us about without regard for whatever personal crisis and trauma we were experiencing. Our houses were burnt and flooded, people were injured, parents couldn’t find their children, and we were made to move on trucks. I was with B and C hiding in my living room but not scared. We were completely absorbed in matters of immediate survival. At that moment, it was how we were to get back into C’s house to rescue his children who he’d been forced to leave there to die. I asked if the tunnel between our four houses was ever completed, and B said it was not. So we’re doomed then, I stated. They were shocked that I could be so matter-of-fact about it, but it was clear that there was nothing we could do. The soldiers would come to round us up too soon. We had nowhere else to hide. If we tried to make our way to C’s house out of line, we’d be shot. And I thought that really this is what it’s always been like. You read about some town in the ancient past that was razed, all the inhabitants slaughtered, when Genghis Khan or Hannibal or Attila the Hun roll through. It was complacent of us to think we couldn’t be caught up in something similar. Just now, people in Gaza or Syria are having their houses blown apart with their children inside, too.

But then I’m in another house and there are two blonde children knocked out on the floor. I see that they aren’t C’s kids, but I pick them up and carry them off anyway.

Then I’m in a restaurant with the kids and we have some cover to play to keep us from being recognized.


In which my neighbor is moving and selling her house too cheaply...

My nextdoor neighbor has a For Sale sign in her yard. I’m sad to see her go and a little hurt that she didn’t tell me about it beforehand. I walk over to her house for coffee, and she confirms that they are putting the house on the market and moving. They are asking 77,000. I know they bought the house for at least 120, so I ask why she’s going so low. She explains that her husband believes that sellers should never try to make money off a house as it is against his complicated system of ethics. He believes that sellers should subtract whatever home maintenance they’ve paid for, the taxes and insurance payments and their to-date mortgage payments from the amount they are asking. So since they’ve already put nearly 50 into the house, they don’t expect to get that back. They just want the difference.

I’m frustrated, and I try to explain that this isn’t how it works. By that logic, a person who completely owns a house out right should just walk away from it and give it to someone else for free. She nods her head and explains that this is exactly what her husband believes. Well, I know there is no sense in trying to reason your way through people’s ridiculous belief systems so I try another angle. Their house is nicer than my own and also worth quite a bit more. If they reduce their price to 77, which is less than I paid for mine, then they could affect the market of the whole neighborhood. I’m not going to be able to sell mine for what it’s rightfully worth.

No matter. She’s steadfast. I go home and call my husband to tell him that we should buy their house ourselves. We could sell it at a profit since they are asking too low, or we could keep it and give it to his mother. He agrees, but when I hang up the phone, I feel trapped. I’m never going to get to move anywhere else.