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Morning of June 11, 2015. Thursday.

Dream #: 17,706-04. Reading time: 2 min 42 sec.



I live in an unknown region in an unfamiliar (to my conscious self) house with my family (some fictitious). I have at least three additional daughters though I do not recall their names. (They do not resemble my real-life daughters.) One seems frustrated with her middle school mathematics homework at a kitchen table. I say that she may need my help. She looks at me annoyingly because it is evident that she needs my help. Another daughter in the twelfth grade will need less assistance.

I am vaguely aware of my need to use the toilet. One of my fictitious daughters is in the bathroom, but she leaves (without complaint) before using it because of me. The bathroom is big (about half the area of our present house). There are pieces of vinyl not firmly or entirely covering the wooden floor as well as debris. Near another wall, perpendicular to the doorway I came in, is what resembles a glass door of a business building but with a doorknob rather than a handle. I go over to the door upon seeing it is open and then discover at least part of the wall is like a glass storefront, so there is no privacy. The immediate area outside looks like a shopping mall entrance. As I attempt to close the door, the doorknob and plate slide about as if loose. I fix it by moving it around until it locks into place and I close the door. I think I will tell my family about it.

The toilet flushes itself (before I go) as if on a timer. It quickly overflows. Water, waste, and debris go under the door, into the hall, into a daughter’s room. I can see through the wall (mentally; unlike through glass). She is doing mathematics homework on her bed, probably wondering about the flooding. I am annoyed by the realization of the awful mess that I will need to clean up, but incredibly, the water, waste, and debris recede, returning to the toilet, leaving the floors dry and clean.

Without using the bathroom, I go outside. The area is rural, and the front yard is very big. I get a strong sense of being in Kentucky (though I have never lived there). The house next door is vacant. On the other side of the dirt road, through a cluster of shrubbery and trees, I see horses pulling a carriage as well as several people walking. I wave at them, and they smile generously and wave back. Most of them are older wealthy blacks dressed in late 1800s attire. One man has white hair and is wearing an expensive-looking suit. They cross to our side of the road and are either moving into the other house or looking at it for possible purchase. There is at least one old Caucasian man with them who may be a servant or adviser as he asks me when the wood pit (a long deep ditch between properties with firewood and uncut logs) was last in use. I am unsure.

Soon, there is a strong gust of refreshing wind, like the season suddenly changing from summer to winter. Big flakes that briefly seem like snow but then like small pieces of old newspaper, small sections of tar paper, and grainy debris, rain down upon us. Some people duck out of apprehension at the unexpected event (that does not cause any injuries). I feel thrilled and exhilarated by this event, with a sense of sudden well-being. When I look back, I see that it was the wind blowing a section of roof cover off my house so that now about a fourth of one side looks uncovered. I notice at least three layers that include newspaper, tar paper, and shingles. One of the men starts talking about my house (though his criticism does not seem rude), as if he is surprised I am living there, expressing how it is more like the kind of house and roof for an apprentice than for a someone such as me. My dream fades.

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