the dollhouse

I had a dream that I was in an antique store. I was there with someone that was supposed to be my mother, but she wasn't my real mother. There in the dark, musty, crowded room, on a table covered with a beautiful old jacquard table cloth, sat a doll house. I was fascinated. It was crudely constructed and painted entirely in black. Yet I couldn't take my eyes off of it and I longed to possess it. In the store was a young couple who appeared to be in love. They were looking at the doll house as well. I heard them approach the clerk and begin to dicker about the price. Suddenly I was overcome by panic. It didn't belong with them. It belonged with me! I looked up at my mother. There were no words exchanged. The next thing I remember is walking out the door with the doll house.

I was very pleased and yet incredibly sad at the same time. I don't know why. The dream got even odder. On the way out, I saw you. You held the door open for me and I smiled and thanked you. You nodded and laughed. It was as if we no longer knew each other. When I woke up my pillow was wet with tears.

I wouldn't call that a dream exactly, nor a nightmare. Maybe it was a premonition.