Just recently, my mortgage broker friend began sending me information about properties for sale that are actually in my price range. Traditionally, home sales slow down in the autumn, and buyers also tend to put the brakes on a purchase decision when a national election looms. So I began wondering if I could find a smaller version of the house I sold last winter and still missed.
I think this is why I dreamed about my old house last night.
Of course the dream was chock full of nonsensical elements as they almost always are. In my dream, the house hadn't been demolished. Instead, the builder who bought it had actually expanded it. Now it was a huge old two-story house with a fascinating roof that I couldn't stop admiring. He had added several chimneys and some whimsical Art Nouveau features, and it didn't have regular shingles. Instead it was made of big square tiles with stonework replacing the gutters.
I can't remember why I'm visiting, but I'm thinking this is probably because I still hear from the new owner, a builder who razed the old property and built his own two-story home at the site. He is actually a nice young man, tall but a bit balding. In this dream he's more attractive.
Before I leave, I realize I need to change clothes as I'm headed to the opera later that afternoon(real-life plans - more later). I wander off to where I think I'm alone and change from frumpy lingerie to some Marlies Dekkers. I'm standing in front of a small room with a big, dark wood door frame that dwarfs the room itself. This is when I feel something around my neck.
I realize that my builder friend has slipped a white silk ribbon around my neck and is pulling me back towards him. He's so gentle that it doesn't hurt at all. In a few seconds, our bodies are touching. My back is against his chest. He doesn't attempt to undress me or even reach toward me. Instead, he keeps me in place with the ribbon. We say nothing; it's as if we're waiting to see what the other's next move will be.
I woke up feeling quite aroused by this scenario, but wondering why I was dreaming about sex. It was the second time in just a few days, and right after Darren* had visited. I had been my usual drained self by the time he departed, as I usually am. So these dreams aren't making much sense.
Today, I spotted an article in Time magazine that described how politically incorrect sex such as the type the Cub and I pursued caused altered mental states. While it didn't explain my dreams, it's still reasonably interesting.
* See The Usual Suspects.