Saturday, February 28, 2009


My son had a dream that he was drinking the most amazing icy water from a glacier source last night. The first thing he did when he woke up was to run downstairs and fetch a glass. Naturally, the ice and water from our fridge did not measure up to the frosty potion he had dreamt about. What a drag.

Some dreams come to us at night when we are sleeping and some are merely daydreams. We daydream about winning the lottery, fitting into jeans we used to fit into, going to Belize or Fiji or some such tropical getaway spot, phantom lovers and fame. Some of us confuse our fantasies and wild imaginings with the here and now. This may cause trouble.

I often dream about houses. Sometimes I find these houses, sometimes my husband or brother are the ones to find them. Never average or ugly—oh no—and they almost always stand above or near bodies of water—usually the ocean. We make our way through them room to room, and wonders are revealed, like secret hallways or attics full of treasures.

In one such dream we pulled up to a Spanish house, parked at the curb, and I boldly pulled my husband inside upon finding the entry door ajar. The living room ceilings were vaulted and beamed. There was a huge fireplace, and a charming balcony at the top of the iron staircase. The dining room had crystal laden wall sconces that matched a magnificent chandelier. The kitchen had majolica on display, and an arched picture window that looked out over a pool and cabana.

About a month later we were on our way to visit friends, driving in a town called Whittier just outside of L.A., and I spotted that very same house! A realtor was placing balloons and flags out front, a sign read OPEN HOUSE NOON TO 5:00.

I told my husband that it was the house from my dream. The one I had described to him in such detail over coffee the following morning. He said we must have driven past it before and that’s what triggered my active imagination. I agreed.

But, explain this, I had never been inside, and the interiors and yard were exactly as I remembered. The claw-foot tub, the lemon tree, the whitewashed pavers and hardwood floors, an upstairs bathroom with turquoise tile and a built-in vanity, that incredible view of Los Angeles’s skyline from the backyard—an exact replica!

The house was for sale but for an incredibly high price. We climbed into the Fiat and drove away lost in our own thoughts.

I have had other dreams that are difficult to explain and many like the one my son had last night. He was just incredibly thirsty and needed to hydrate.

All Rights Reserved. © 2009 by Elizabeth Bradley.

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