Ripped-up ‘dream’ house

They say that dreaming about a house is really dreaming about your life—if you believe that sort of thing. It seems dream interpretation people in general hold pretty strongly to that line of thought. Look it up some time.

It’s been years since I had a “house” dream, and until this they’ve always been great, adventurous fun—a completely new house to explore, or a familiar house with new rooms and/or really interesting, beautiful, unusual, or ultra-futuristic things in the rooms, or unfamiliar but friendly and fascinating people to talk to. Each time, a new, unexplored room or area would appear. Sometimes a new (sports!) car would be in the garage or the driveway. Once the house contained a complete new apartment within itself, and another time a superbly equipped new kitchen with all the appliances turquoise. They were entertaining dreams. I liked them. I also haven’t had one in probably eight or ten years.

Last night I had an unsettling “house” dream—the first like this. The house was mine—I knew that, though I couldn’t tell it from looking. Wallpaper and drywall were ripped off and hanging, broken and shedding gypsum. Holes had been kicked and hammered in the walls; electrical wires, plumbing, and similar internal structure torn out and left lying, some of it rusty, on the floor. Smoking green fluids pooled here and there, leaving holes around them. Complete inside walls had been torn out, exploded, or otherwise destroyed. Construction disaster covered floors in piles that it took some effort to climb over or get around. Floor joists stuck up, broken, looking for a chance to stab a person in the chest (or it felt that way in the dream). Appliances were pulled out, twisted out of shape, sparking, and kind of frightening. The ceilings, roof, and exterior were in equally bad shape. It looked as if a hurricane and tornado had collided and fought it out on my poor wee house.

I remember feeling appalled, but not surprised or angry; I just started cleaning. My kids were there. They were livid, trying to clean things up, and seriously angry.

My children’s father was also there. Just watching.

Bizarre.

I don’t know what to think about this. I don’t believe dreams in general have any real meaning; yet I don’t see how something like that could have anything to do with consolidating memories, solving problems (which I’ve had happen many times in dreams), or anything on that order. Nor do I think of my life as a wreck. It has wrecky parts, but so does everyone else’s.

It’s a mystery, and I hope it doesn’t come back!

Posted by wordsmith

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