I dreamt of my house again last night.
It had a root-cellar, except that wasn’t underground.
I remember distinctly that it had a square flat window to the left – the left as you sat on a settee – not a sofa – and looked out upon –
maybe a blank wall.
There was metal, I remember that.
I was with people.
We were upstairs at one point –
and on the ground floor – outside was a large garden – ‘huge’ came to mind, but probably not that big – there was something like dovecots lining the bottom fence – wall – not dovecots – I never saw a dove – but apertures maybe, from where photographs were taken.
I remember thinking that there was so much space in this house – someone visited, and she thought it was hers – she’d just bought it – that and another next door, which she was going to make into one – I thought I must have asked her for a look around.
I wondered about buying the house she vacated – better than the one I already had (which was shady in my view – and none of these houses I have already mentioned).
Yes, there was a lot of space – I remember thinking that there was a lot of space, but the house was where it was.
This is where the dream starts to break down, because a man I barely knew was selling the house, and had moved to Emm.