Friday, April 25, 2014

Dreaming, meaning

Image credit

The dream of the house
was different this time.
For so long, it was a dingy,
dirty, scary place full of
relics, broken furniture, ghosts
in the corners, webs on the
ceilings, basement blanketed
in damp, cracked and missing
windows and molding, molded,
unidentifiable greasy lumps of fear
and dusty indescribable terror.
The crumbling interior walls were now torn
out and fresh wall board was installed,
tape and texture underway.
The garbage and grime were gone.
I walked in and out of newly
framed doors on hardwood floors,
up and down freshly refurbished stairs,
wondering at all the rooms and
levels  and light
that had appeared, built by
my mind in anticipation of what?
Ladders and tools and raw materials
were neatly arrayed, though no
workers were present during my
walk through.
I wondered how soon the raw walls
would be painted, then peered out a
window at the yard yet to be
landscaped that was brightly free of
weeds, skeletons, dead trees, sink holes -
just reinvigorated dirt, waiting for
a green thumb and creative hands.
Relief slowly soaked my mind that
the past, the ruined, the disappointments,
the hurts had been cleared out.
The remodel, the restoration wasn't done
but it was well underway.
I could see the hope of fresh wood,
smell the dreams of fresh paint,
feel the safety of new walls and
boundaries and the shape of
the longed-for, slowly revealed.
Around every corner, I heard her
voice, but couldn't quite see her.
She hadn't been there before,
but her spirit was near now and
I sensed her physical presence
wasn't far away.
I listened, wondering, deciding.

(Posted for Day 25, NaPoWriMo, 04/24/14. I ignored the prompt because this idea was crowding my mind!)

1 comment:

  1. Would you believe that I started crying as I read this? It all sounds so familiar, yet very strange as if it's a stage I want to get to as well... Beautiful, Susan, simply beautiful!


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