|I've NEVER had a dream like this before.
||[May. 6th, 2006|04:57 pm]
I can't even find words to describe it.
It feels sooo significant, and seemed to capture some very beautiful writing out of Early-Morning-Amanda (BTW, this was copied verbatim from the page I'd scribbled it onto then).
Please tell me your thoughts: Any possible interpretations?
"I was in NJ. I had just moved into this house I'd come across--a man rented it out, but I doubted he had ever been there himself. Otherwise, he wouldn't be the sort to rent out houses. The front door opened out onto an alleyway, and it was in Rahway a bit away from Ari's house.
It was a big dark house, and all the rooms were different. Each had a different feeling, and I knew that the only one I could ever be safe in after dark was an upstairs bedroom. One wall was nothing but the landing, overlooking the kitchen floor. I was afraid to touch anything, anywhere--my modern belongings were not a part of that house, and I'd not be able to see them if I were to bring them.
I liked my room--I knew I would be safe there. The house had no electricity though, and no furnishings other than grey things that had been there so long the house no longer wanted to show them to me. This made my room feel cozy, but it made the rest of the house make me depressed.
Ari came to visit often--it almost felt like it was ours, not just mine. In the morning, the kitchen was safe to visit and light streamed in through the windows. I remember his mother there with us one morning, and we were eating breakfast and there was a vase of fresh-cut flowers on the table between us.
I wanted Minuet to be there with me, but I knew the house would scare her and she'd get lost in it. It didn't seem right to picture her there--she didn't live in the house like I did.
One day I found a beaded curtain covering one of the other doorways. I'd never opened any of them besides my own--I knew that as long as they stayed closed, I would be safe. Yet, I wondered who had once lived behind them, and why they were always so quiet.
I wondered why Ari was never able to stay very long--I yearned for us to fall asleep cuddling. I knew the candle on the dresser would stay burning all night, and it would keep us safe. And yet, that open wall--was it as safe for him here as it was for me?
ne moment I realized I'd not stepped outside of the house for so very long--how long had it been? It hadn't seemed like that long--hadn't I only been standing here thinking awhile? Hadn't I only just moved in today? But, why had it been so much longer?
I opened the front door, and stepped outside. It was nighttime; the moon was shining and the stars were twinkling [exactly the atmosphere of my icon up there]. Had they been doing this all along? Why hadn't I seen their light shining through the windows?
I suddenly realized how big the world seemed. How many hours were there til morning, and where would I go after that--were the streets still the same? What had happened since I'd walked into that door? Would the world still remember me?"