Dreams. You hear the word and some of you immediately think of goals and plans and making your dreams come true. And others will hear the word and immediately think of sleeping, and fantasy and the part of your life that happens subconsciously, deep in the night. The two definitions are so different, but sometimes I think, intimately entwined.
I dream about houses – in all senses of the word. I definitely dream and plan and have a goal to buy a house – absolutely! And I also dream about houses while sleeping. I think the overlap happens because it’s one of my deepest and purest desires – a little old house of my very own…
When I was a little girl I remember being attracted to old houses – if there was a Victorian house on a street, my eyes would immediately be glued to it, and I’d turn around in the back seat of the car, to look as long as I possibly could. It was a huge attraction. And I could tell the difference between truly old houses, and new houses that had been built to look old – and had big disdain for the latter. My parents built three different brand-new custom houses while I was growing up – houses in the best neighborhoods – with tile roofs and huge yards – but there I was lusting after the little old Victorian cottages we only saw when we went to Downtown San Diego. Even so, I’m definitely my father’s daughter – he may have liked brand new construction and perfect newness and I liked worn wood and wavy vintage glass windows – but deep down, our passion for houses was very similar – just different in the details.
My first apartment was the bottom story of an old house in San Diego, and since then I’ve lived in lots of rented old houses – but I’ve never owned one.
About a year-and-a-half ago I had a dream – I woke up thinking about this little old yellow house with a dusty yard. It was run down and needed work, but in the dream it was mine – my house – my home. And I was going to get to paint and repair and restore it, and make it look like it did in it’s heyday. It was such a vivid dream! And when I woke up I couldn’t shake it. At the time I was still thinking I wanted to live in LA – for business reasons – and this house just did not fit with the plan. But the dream and this dream house kept pulling at me…
I’ve always heard that when you dream about a house, the house represents you – and the different rooms represent different aspects of your personality. So if you find new rooms in your house while dreaming, you’re discovering new parts of your personality or new things you’d like to try. So I wasn’t quite sure what it meant when I was dreaming about a run down little old house in another city, when I thought I wanted to be in LA? How could I reconcile that?
But there was something about the dream that stuck with me. The house just felt like home. It felt like me. Even if I wasn’t sure I liked that.
This week, on a whim I did a search on realtor.com and the house in my dream popped up – and I was instantly drawn to it. Built in 1893, a Victorian cottage with a front porch on a dusty, weed-filled lot. Then I saw the photo of the kitchen – two-tone 1930’s tile work and 1930’s cabinets. Yes, it’s definitely the personification of the house in my dream.
And while I’m not ready to buy right now, Riverside has lots of similar homes, and when I am ready, there will be one for me. I know that. I dreamed it!
The image on top is the house as I saw it in my dream – sort of blurry and happy and soft. And the image below is how the rest of the world sees such a house – run down, and needing work. I’m honestly in love with both views. I’m easy when it comes to my dream house…