The
Dream
Vortex

give me your dreams

dear diary

journaling
tips

a language
lesson

the dreaming
web

I have been putting myself places I may or may not wish to be. One thing is for sure: My home is never wholly mine.

For one thing, if you go far enough downstairs
in a miasma of pink and purple carpetting
(pink for the steps. purple for the landings)
you end up on someone else's front porch.
M.F19.ce2001

And the landlord lives next door
in the apartment's other bedroom;
my husband and I must argue quietly, or be overheard.
W.F7.ce2001

Heck, it was never meant to be mine.
I'm a housefinder. I find houses. For others.
(Gods, it's a lovely place. My herb garden would go here,
my piano would go here...)
This floor of the shared mansion will belong
to the elderly Jewish couple
who trust me to keep them safe.
Out of this wide world I've found them
a place in Italy, in a Catholic neighborhood.
I think I screwed this assignment right up.
Sa.N18.ce2000

Did I really want to move back to Oregon?
The cats are happy. They know this apartment through and through.
Ours is the only floor of the apartment building
not carpetted inside the way the outside is
(pink for the steps. purple for the landings)
but we're preparing to put that right.
M.F20.ce2001

Damn, I love crawl-in attics!
This one has stairs going down, a shadow sibling
of the rest of the house hidden among the rafters.
Neat!
W.F7.ce2001

Maybe the interpretation is obvious. The trend is certainly notable. Each of us wants our own dream house; it appears I'm compromising mine. The why and how of it will take some time to determine.

I'm standing with my chin on the fence of the construction site.
I don't see anything constructive going on.
It's just black dirt that will never be a garden,
crusts of ice grown thick during long neglect.
There isn't even a hole.
W.F21.ce2001

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ms. found in a modem © Nicole J. LeBoeuf
Last updated 02/20/2001