Last night produced an exceptional dream. I dreamt that we went back to a house we lived in on an Air Force base; we lived there about six years ago. It was a three bedroom. In my dream, though, it had four bedrooms.
The living room was strewn with different childhood items. Board games, little pieces of clothing, and small toys. The living room also had a stage. Of course, when we moved out the house was empty.
In the dream every bedroom had a king size bed. The only bed I can remember with clarity had pillows in white cases. They were as soft as hotel pillows. The top blanket was a gray/blue comforter. The walls were white.
The only real detail in the dream was the car port. It was exactly the same as the one that we had while we lived on base. However, underneath the car port in my dream was a Pontiac G6 which I jokingly refer to as the poor man’s BMW. It was maroon, but it was my husband’s. That made me laugh in the dream because he absolutely hates Pontiacs.
We ate Rally’s. It was so real that I thought I could smell the chili cheese fries.
When my sons (who are 11 and 9) got off the school bus they were the right age, but the minute we went into the house or into the base pool they regressed to the physical age of four and two. My younger son’s curly brown hair was as soft as down feathers. My older son’s blonde hair reminded me of lemonade. They wore the little swim suits with the built-in life jackets.
It was truly bittersweet.
AB
