Have you ever dreamed the same thing over and over again?

Many of my dreams include houses. I used to dream repeatedly about a two-story house with a center staircase. Though I haven’t dreamed about it lately, it’s still very vivid in my mind and I wonder if it actually exists somewhere.

I’ve also had this dream before, the one about mail. The setting is usually different, but the result is the same.

Last night, I dreamed that I was trying to remove my mail from one of those small boxes in a cluster of apartment mailboxes. At first, I couldn’t get the key to work, but after many efforts, the tiny door swung open to reveal the box crammed with envelopes.

I started attempting to pull out the mail, without tearing any of it, but it was so tightly packed that I couldn’t get hold of it. I’m not sure whether or not I was planning to move in the dream, but I had the feeling that I was going to leave behind that gob of paper.

Were there bills? Was any of it important? Any juicy, newsy letters? Nah, nobody writes those any more. What was I going to be missing if I just walked away and left it all choked into that little box?

Night before last, I dreamed about looking for an apartment. I was meeting with realtors all night long, and every one of them recognized me. It was as if I’d been searching for a “home” for a very long time.

In the dream, the current realtor and I were driving through a posh, green neighborhood with lots of trees and grass. Even the street signs were green with scrolling writing. We were looking for “Sterling Place.” I’d like to have seen the house on Sterling Place, but I woke up before we found it.

A few nights ago, I dreamed that I was in the city. It was a big city like New York. It didn’t look like New York, but it must have been because I was searching for my old apartment building.

Finally, I saw it, kitty-corner from where I was standing. To get there, I had to cross a busy street, with six lanes of whizzing traffic, but there was no traffic light or crosswalk.

To my left was a large construction site. I decided to walk through. It was labyrinthine, like a torturous maze with shear drop-offs and incomplete stairs. I’d start down a staircase only to discover that it ended halfway down. The rest was a yawning, cavernous hole, and I’d have to turn around and scramble back before it swallowed me up.

Next thing I knew, I’d escaped the construction jungle and, miraculously, ended up on the other side of the street. Now, standing on the corner in front of where I’d seen my building, it was gone. I looked all around, but it had disappeared.

In true dream-state thinking, I decided that it must have been further down the street, so I started to walk. I walked and walked, but the building was nowhere to be found. By now, it was late afternoon and I was tired, so I got on a bus, thinking that I would get off when I saw my building.

The bus drove only a few blocks before turning and heading out of the city. No! I approached the driver and asked how long the route was. “When will we be back in the city?”

Instead of a city bus, I’d hopped onto a commuter bus that served the local countryside. The bus wasn’t due back in the city for another couple of hours.

I got off at the next stop. By now, night had fallen. The bus pulled away, leaving me standing at the bus stop. Alone in the dark, I took out my cell phone to try to call an Über, but I had no bars.

That’s when I woke up. Alone, in the middle of nowhere with no signal.

No mail. And no home.

Hmmm. What do you suppose Dr. Freud would make of it?

~~Sally Rose
Author of Amazon Nº. 1 Best Seller Penny Possible
Author of A Million Sticky Kisses
Contributing author to Once Upon An Expat

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