Years ago, when I was single, I lived in a little 3-room apartment. I was there for about ten years. My major complaint about the place was how cold it was in the winter. I had a huge kitchen (with an ugly turquoise refrigerator and a marvelous antique Norge gas stove), a bathroom shaped like a bowling alley, a small bedroom, and a small living room. I also had a back porch, access to clotheslines, and more closet space than anyplace I've lived before or since. There was no shower, but there was one of those old, deep, claw-footed bathtubs.
For some reason, I frequently dream that I'm moving back into that apartment. Sometimes it's just me; other times it's with TV Stevie, and sometimes I dream that the Chromos are young again, and the four of us relocate into those four rooms. There is nothing in particular that triggers the dream. It simply happens.
Sometimes, the locale has changed slightly. In reality, the back lawn sloped down to the back lawns of people living on the parallel street, but occasionally I dream there is a river flowing at the base of the lawn.
I dreamed about 1911 (the address) again last week. The landlord was showing me all the remodeling changes he'd made, including enlarging the bedroom by taking out the back hall closet. He'd also painted over the pineapple wall paper in the living room and the yellow-and-orange flowered wall paper in the kitchen. (I really loved that kitchen, except for the turquoise refrigerator).
Maybe someday I'll figure out why that apartment figures so prominently in my sleeping hours.
2 comments:
Oh how I remember that apartment, many a good meal was shared there, some wine, tea and hopes as well as dreams. I think that apartment was so YOU..I always enjoyed visiting you there, it was cozy and it just has good memories. Thanks for stirring my brain on a cold Sunday afternoon my friend!
Yes, we did, Robin. I was there a long time, turquoise fridge and all. I still miss that stove, the bathtub, and the closet space.
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