The weirdness of my brain
Feb. 20th, 2009 10:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vr_trakowskiTwo nights ago I dreamed about my grandmother's house, which sits at the core of my heart, and whose inside I have not seen in over a decade. Grams died last August, but she and I were there together, and then she went out of the room and I couldn't find her. The stove had been replaced with a china cupboard of some kind, and when I woke I wondered what had happened to the dresser that used to stand in the kitchen (believe it or not, it made sense--it was a big kitchen). It's not like she could have gone far; it wasn't a big house.
Some memories one doesn't handle often, for fear of wearing them out, but that house is so much a part of me that I cannot forget it. The very ache of bumping my bare toes on the sprinkler heads in the lawn is embedded; the creak of the back room floor; the regret that for all the time I spent there I never actually did see the attic.
Some things I just don't understand, but they're there.
Some memories one doesn't handle often, for fear of wearing them out, but that house is so much a part of me that I cannot forget it. The very ache of bumping my bare toes on the sprinkler heads in the lawn is embedded; the creak of the back room floor; the regret that for all the time I spent there I never actually did see the attic.
Some things I just don't understand, but they're there.