The haunting memory of my houseI dreamt of the old house again.
It’s amazing how dreams plays with memory, jumping over space and time, capturing the old and the new, combining them together, as if like some great narration, with no respect for chronological reality.
It’s been some time since I last dreamt of the old house. So much so that I was missing it some time ago. Not that I was worried, because I knew that I would always be haunted by the memory of it, by the realization that something was not resolved between the old dwelling and me. Even though I had been back one time long ago, it never drove any ghosts away.
The old house had turned into some sort of resting house for strangers. Yet the old master bedroom remained my father’s and we were living in it still. I remember looking across the small hallway and saw the retreating back of a renter, but I couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman. The shadows soon swallowed the person as she or he returned to the room that was once my bedroom.
My mother was there. Vaguely, at the back of my mind, I knew this to be strange because she hated being in any area that belonged to my father. Nevertheless, there she was, probably because he wasn’t there anyway.
We were waiting for something. Time to go somewhere, like a function or a dinner. But I didn’t care how short a time it was, because I was dying to look over my father’s possessions. Even as a child, I was always fascinated with the things I found or could not see in his room. I was always rummaging in his drawers. In the dreams, whenever I found myself in his room, I continue to have that childlike wonder.
This time I attacked his video collections. I knew he would have acquired many more movies. I drew file after file, looking for something interesting to watch; anime, thriller, action, but try as I could, I couldn’t find something that I would be satisfied to watch for 5 minutes!
I had a momentary emotional reaction, though, when I saw that he had kept my old spectacles and places it on top of one shelf, as though to ensure that he could see it daily.
The scene changed to that of the office. YS, MY, VH and a few others were there. The office concept was different; open, no partitioning, long tables, computers were on wider and more spacious table than in reality. My table was the last one at the end of the long tables, facing the back room that served as a pantry and storeroom.
Something in the angle of the computer made me wary of possible spies. It reflected so much of the current situation at work in reality that I knew all these were a mirror reflection of my thoughts. In addition, there was a protective plastic cover that covered all the computers in the office. Again, this reflects the knowledge that my company is planning to install a firewall and a software that will track our Internet activities.
There was also a mild argument over a leftover hamper from Body Shop which HR accused us of distributing among ourselves. A ludicrosy that I highlighted to the inept HR woman who barged in on my newspaper time in the backroom. Then I woke up.
I know there must be more to this dreaming of the old house, than what Dreammoods say. But I guess I can no more explain it than why I keep dreaming it. Hopefully one day someone can explain the logic to me.