My dream house

 

Maybe something like this?

My dream house is literally that—a house that came to me in a dream. I thought I had gotten over house longing years ago, especially since I’m so happy in my cottage. But there it was, a memory so vivid it has been with me all day. Lewis Bundock and I were doing a walk-through, talking paint colors and wallpaper—yes, wallpaper. Lewis is the wonderful contractor who kept my old house updated and working well for over twenty-five years but retired during the pandemic. He’s still available to me for telephone consultation, but I doubt he’d undertake the renovations in my dream.

The house wa a red brick with a roofed front porch—not craftsman but not quite territorial either. I was focused on the interior. The front door opened into a huge entryway, much of it floored with Saltillo tile and the rest, inexplicably, in white shag carpet. The previous owner had left a few pieces of furniture, including an old sofa. From this entry, a long hall bisected the house, with countless rooms on either side—I lost count of how many, but it exceeded a reasonable number.

Several were bedrooms, and most still held antique bedsteads with elaborate Victorian headboards. One was a young girl’s room—her mother had found wall a Honduran fabric for wall cover, but Lewis pronounced it too frail and transparent. No coincidence, I had been talking late the night before to one of Jordan’s friends who has a young teen daughter.

The kitchen was my particular delight. It had lots of white cabinets, floor to ceiling, and we decided to paper it with a pattern of white background and some medium blue something—to match my Blue Willow china. There was a living room, with some furniture, a dining room which I decreed needed wainscoting painted a pale hue like celery. The hall walls would also have the wainscoting. At the back on the left side, was a room I thought would make a wonderful sitting room/library (I apparently wasn’t taking in account the fact that I live alone and have no need for a library/sitting room, although I knew several of the bedrooms were for guests.) Next to this den, was a small room, with windows—perfect for my office.

One problem, there was no bathroom, and Lewis and I differed over which room should be a bathroom. He wanted to use my sitting room/library, but I resisted. I didn’t want my office to open into the bathroom. I’m not sure we ever decided on a room but wherever it was, the walls would be tiled to chest height, with wallpaper above—this ivory, with scattered ferns (I think sister-in-law Lisa had that in her guest bath when they lived in Kingwood but I just read how only Boomers have such wallpaper—and I’m too old to be a boomer!).

The dream ends there, but I wanted to write it down while it was still so clear. I was dreaming about the house when Soph wakened me about six this morning for her breakfast. I fed her and went right back to bed and into the same dream. Last night’s dreams had me teaching again—not nearly as pleasant.

In other news of no note, about three weeks ago I lost my house keys. Went to the nursery and Trader Joe’s with Mary one morning, and when we got back to the cottage, I could not find my keys. We searched my purse several times, Mary searched her car, I spent days calling the nursery and Trader’s. No luck. I had new keys made, had to have a technician out to replace the key fob for the security system.

Yesterday Mary found the keys deep in a pocket of a purse she rarely uses. As Jordan often does, she told me to head for the car and she’d take care of locking the door—and then she inadvertently slipped the keys into her purse instead of mine! Still nice to know they’re not floating out there someplace, even though they didn’t have any identification on them.

In other inconsequential news, I had dinner with friends the other night to celebrate one’s birthday which happened September 1^st. But late as we were, Kathie, the birthday girl, remembered she hadn’t given me a present for my July birthday, so she presented me with the heaviest present I’ve ever gotten: a cast iron cornbread pan which makes cornbread not in the shape of ears of corn (like my mom had) but in the shape of saguaro cactus. Getting those out of the pan intact will be a real trick. Although Kathie is an inveterate garage sale shopper, this pan appears new, and I will have to season it if I hope to get anything more than crumbs out of it. I did test today, and it fits in my toaster oven.

And that, friends, is the extent of my news on this sleepy Sunday evening. Jean just came for supper, and we dined in the main house, so she could see Christian’s all-out Halloween decorations. A pleasant evening.

And a nostalgic picture just because I thought it was so cute when it popped up onmy computer today. 

A boy and my dog