Thread: The house that he builds

Well, it's been a while since I've posted any of my dreams. I thought I would share this one:

When I opened my eyes, I was in a vast, open area. There were no trees as far as my eyes could see, nor was there much of anything else but healthy, beautiful green grass. I think there was a cliff on one side of the terrain… perhaps overlooking a river, although I’m not sure how I knew that. In the far distance, at the brink of my sight, was a soft gray fog, as though it had just rained or was about to.

As part of my usual routine when I arrive in the dreaming, I looked down at myself. My body was a bit smaller (certainly more slender and fit), my skin an asian color, and my hair long and black. I knew which body I wore, and it felt so right. I felt contented. I was dressed in a loose, comfortable outfit reminiscent of a martial arts gi. It was a very pale and soothing shade of pink and it felt like soft linen. I found myself wishing I had this body and outfit in the waking world…

Before me stood a house. No, it wasn’t a house yet. It was still only a bunch of wooden boards, bricks, a wheelbarrow, and randomly strewn tools. A man was amidst the scarce beginnings of the house, and I knew that he was building it alone. He was a broad, middle-aged man with very dark hair and eyes and a soft, friendly face that was crinkled in concentration. I quietly watched him for a few moments before he finally glanced my way and noticed my presence.

He noticed me right away and straightened, one hand on his lower back as though it protested his movements. He raised a hand in greeting, and I did the same. He asked my name. I replied, “Tomoe.”

“Hello, Tomoe,” he said, and went back to work. I took a few steps closer to him and his project. I felt that the building of this house was very important to him, and a project that only he could complete. His soul felt heavy… I didn’t want to stand there doing nothing, nor did I want to leave him alone. So I offered to help.

He looked at me curiously before nodding and motioning to a tool that he needed. Careful not to get in his way, I retrieved the tool from a pile of debris and handed it to him. He continued to work diligently.

After a few minutes of silence, he suddenly began to speak to me. His accent was one that I’m not used to, but pleasant to listen to nonetheless. It sounded Scottish. He made small talk at first; complimenting the weather, how nice the grass smelled and how pretty the surrounding area was. And then he delved into the details of his life. He had a pregnant wife that was far away, and he was building the house for her and their child.

I felt strongly that his wife and child were farther away than he thought and that he would not be seeing them again for a very long time. In fact, I sensed that I was behind an opaque curtain. This layer of earth was very quiet… It occurred to me then that I heard no birds, no rustling wind, no rushing water even though I was sure there was a river nearby.

To make things even more confusing, I also felt that I was on earth—this earth, and I heard and felt all the things associated with the realm of the ‘living’. Yes… what a splendid way to describe my location… I felt as though I were between the realm of the living and the dead. I felt that, perhaps, this man was no longer alive in the human sense of the word.

I think I struggled with this for a moment, because he asked me if I was alright. I focused all my energy on the quieter realm that he was in, and I nodded. “I am sorry to worry you,” I said.

“You look as though you’ve seen a ghost, lass.”

I didn’t reply. Instead I encouraged him to speak more of himself, all the while helping him in small ways (handing him the tools he needed, or holding a board in place). I was starting to get tired, but I felt that I could stay there as long as necessary. Certainly as long as he needed me. The poor man… his soul felt so alone and heavy. The more he talked, the lighter his soul felt to me and he worked with much more ease. Eventually, though, he noticed my growing exhaustion.

“Oh? Is it time for you to go already, then?” I felt terrible. I had no idea how long he’d been alone, building this house. I felt terrible leaving him, but I could feel the pull of my body in the waking world getting more and more urgent as I grew more and more tired.

To my surprise, he cheerfully stood, wiped his forehead, and clapped the dust from his hands. He walked nearer to me, bowed respectfully, and then took my hand in his and kissed it. He thanked me for taking the time to listen to ‘an old man’s story’, and I felt as though he had removed a great burden from his shoulders.

It was only when I woke up that I realized I’d never asked his name. Or, if I did, I could not remember it.