I am in a house (sometimes it feels as though I own it, at
others that I’m a guest there), and am entertaining some guests. I have a partner, but he is always in the
background and I do not see him distinctly.
My guests are a family consisting of a man (who also disappears very
quickly), his wife who worries about him constantly, and their two children,
who eventually blend and become my granddaughter.
The woman is the only one I see distinctly – she is a bit
shorter than me, plump, with dark blond hair that puffs out in unruly curls at
her shoulders. She smiles often, but
that smile does not reach her eyes, because there’s a deep abiding sadness
within her. She dresses plainly. At one point while we’re talking in the
kitchen, she not only relaxes enough to laugh, but also gets carried away enough
to actually lift her shirt and flash me!
We collapse in helpless laughter on the kitchen chairs and it takes us a
long time to pull ourselves together.
There is a feeling that her husband has disappeared, and a
search begins to find him. This adds to
her worries but she does her best to keep the children calm. Eventually, we do try to go to bed, but when
we go into the bedrooms, we see there are all sorts of pigeons sitting on the
window sills. She tells me that I must
get the screens installed, as this will prevent such incursions, and all the
while we’re busy shooing the birds outside.
The birds are not alarmed, and almost as though they know what to do,
they hop out onto the outside sills and simply continue to roost there as we
close the windows. In the morning, I
look out onto the property which is now under water – it had rained during the
night and now everything is flooded. The
woman is nowhere to be found, until I go outside and stand on the stairs. I see that she slept the night on the small
porch. When she sees me, she, in her
frustration, gathers up all the linens and just dumps them onto the soggy lawn
before storming into the house.
It crosses my mind that it will take a long time to wash
everything because I have only a small washer and dryer, and sincerely hope
that the grounds will dry out soon so I can string up a clothesline.
Once we get back inside, we suddenly become aware that there
is a faint knocking noise coming from somewhere. The woman suddenly shudders as though finally
waking up, and says, “Now where is that knocking coming from?” We split up and begin to search the property
and finally get alerted by the children that they found something. We rush into the small back room where there
is a heavy metal trunk, and yes indeed, the knocking is coming from there! It is obvious that her husband had somehow
got trapped in this trunk and was unable to get himself out! I leave them to their reunion while I go into
the kitchen to make breakfast.
Abby greets me there, and we begin chatting. She is a bit older now, and I find it
difficult to connect with her. She’s
aloof, a typical teenager, and is talking about the latest fashions she’s
interested in, and her favourite mall.
Instantly, the house fades and I find myself in that mall. It’s a small one, but filled with expensive
boutiques and exclusive stores. I walk
around and wonder how I can afford to buy a pair of socks here, let alone a
dress, or how my granddaughter can shop here.
Suddenly, I hear a joyous shout from around the corner, followed
by boisterous singing. I follow the
sound and come into what appears as a medieval kitchen and dining hall. A lot of people walk out laughing and
talking, reliving their experience. And obviously,
I now see it’s a theme dinner theatre, like Medieval Times. The kitchen staff is all dressed in white and
red uniforms, and some are doing a circle dance. What surprises me is seeing very young
children employed there, children who are no more than four or five years old. Their chef style hats are way too large on
them, but that doesn’t stop them from expertly integrating in the choreographed
dance which normally happens in a large kitchen. A couple of them stop to look at me with
large eyes and solemn faces before running off to haul pots as large as
themselves over to the tables...
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