Never quite as it seems
January 23, 2010 – 9:55 amLast night, I dreamt that I was in France, or at least a place where French was being spoken. I was riding along on a bus — gee, can’t escape that even in my dreams, I suppose — and chatting with my fellow passengers about travel and commenting on the houses we passed along the way.
At first, we were in a less populated area where the houses were massive and spread out, like castles or mansions. At some point, I remembered getting off the bus and walking across fields and making my way up a series of steps. All of a sudden, there was an opening that led into a house that was furnished, yet had a stairwell going through it. I came across a man watching television and apologized for intruding. He seemed resigned to it and said, “Oh, it’s OK.” I continued walking up the stairs, but then somehow I was back on the bus.
As the bus rolled on, we arrived in a more urban environment where the houses were much closer together and the streets were cluttered with people. The passengers on the bus began to comment on housing prices and how we couldn’t afford the huge residences we saw earlier on the ride, but how it may be possible to afford a place in the city.
And then, I woke up.
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