WWWP

Since probably November I've been stuck on this one dream. There's a huge, beautiful house, like multi-million dollar forest mansion, and I'm there with a small group of people, the feeling, although it's not specifically stated, is that we are staying there for the night, on our way through to another unclear destination.

We are staying by permission of a group member's extended relative or something, but there is a feeling of uneasiness about making sure we keep the house tidy and better than we found it. I could list every detail of this house, from the lightswitch covers to cleaning products under the sink. We drink, we party, we explore the house. It's very full and lived-in, rooms full of old clothes and coats hanging neatly on racks, huge art pieces and interesting lamps, knick knacks and bulletin boards collaged with magazine cuttings and pins, skylights and multi-story windows.

Out back there is a small river than runs down the mountain, and on the far side a steep slope up to another hill. The forest is thick, and it's difficult to make your way through the brush - or at least that's what it looks like, I've never made it across. Sometimes I get in the water, about titty deep, and the current is strong but the silt on the bottom of the river kind of keeps your feet weighed down, so you don't get carried away. I once was warned to never be out after sunset. I've been stood on the beautiful redwood wraparound porch near sunset, and watched a small doe drink from the river. As it got darker, she looked more and more menacing, like her face had contorted into a narrow scowl and her movements were unnatural. Then she runs off into the woods, presumably up the hill.

Most of time the river is ignored. It's always there, but not as alluring for periods of time. What typically happens is that we prepare a big feast, eat and drink, play games and talk, etc. Arguably the most boring part. The next morning, we sleep in. Too late. We should have been on the road already to get to (????) where we're supposed to be. I remember a couple of us, including the friend who knew the homeowners, staying up late into the night, drinking bourbon from snifters and listening to some strange wavy-flexible vinyl from the collection of the homeowners, we had those lighthearted, midnight of the soul kind of conversations. The kind of conversation that's too good to interrupt with sleep.

In the morning it was all rushing and panic. "Why did you unpack your whole suitcase," "do we take the trash with us?" "why didn't we load the car last night" etc. cleaning and tidying and checking the house for any missed beer cans or trash. Amidst the chaos, someone noticed a member of our group is missing. The person who knew the homeowners. We try to contact them, but it goes straight to voicemail. Either dead or not in service. Suddenly everyone abandons the job they were doing and they start hanging out, speculating on where the missing person could be. The consensus is that we should go into town to see if we can spot him - maybe he took one of the homeowners quads?- and if not, we'll get a room in town until we can figure out where he is. Eventually we'll get through to him.

So we make it to town, we still can't find him, so we try to book a room, but find out it had burned down some years ago. We follow the directions on our cell phones anyway and drive by. There it was, still sitting on the main street, a charred shell. Some of the group thinks we should go back to the house and wait for him to turn up there, the rest of us don't think it's a good idea - what if the homeowners come back? Sure, they let us stay one night, but that's not an invitation to go back and stay another. Without our friend there with us, why wouldn't they assume we're intruders?

This is around the point where I usually wake up, at the fork in the road. Some nights I have gone back up to the house, anxiously watching out windows, waiting to hear a car come up the winding dirt road to find their house occupied.

Sometimes I just keep driving, presumably across states judging by the changing landscapes. Boring, but also filled with anxiety because we've now left someone behind, with no way to communicate where we're going, or knowing what happened to him.

Sometimes, the hotel is open. It was never burnt down. If I stay in the hotel, I start conflating it with another repetitive dream I have, and the details start to muddy themselves. That will wake me up, because I've been having these same few dreams for so long now, if something is out of the ordinary it really sticks out.

Also, a funny thing is that the ceiling lights have pull cords but they are all unreachable, and there are no light switches anywhere in the house. Supposedly, if you cannot tell whether you are dreaming or awake, you should try turning a light switch on and off. In lucid dreams you can't control light like that, so in this house all the lighting was on a remote controlled dimmer. Nice one brain. I see what you did there. You're so clever. <3

Anyway this week I've really been trying to go back to the river, I want to see if I can cross it. Also the road that leads to the house continues up the mountain, and I've never tried going that way. Kinda fun. And where is my friend? I wonder if I'll ever find out.

__________________

#DEMODFROWNLAND
#TERMLIMITSFORMODERATORS