Wednesday, May 03, 2006

Dream 11 Cib 9 Uo

We were buying a house, and the one we settled on was very nice. And clearly too large for us, too expensive, but we were going ahead anyway.
The house was white and very old. I don’t remember what architectural style it was, but it wasn’t Victorian. It was very square. In the backyard was a white stone chapel, deconsecrated, and it was being used as an owlry by the woman who lived there, who was an animal control officer. We knew she was going to try to rent the chapel from us to keep her owls there but we wanted that chapel; we thought it was so cool.
Across the street was a large cemetery that continued next door. That was one of the reasons why the house was cheaper than it should be. Also in the front yard was a small mausoleum which belonged to the original builders.
I don’t remember much about the inside of the house. When you walked in the front door, the entry hall and great room inside were probably as large as my whole house. The ceiling was VERY high—at least 25 feet. The room was stuffed full of furniture and lots of hanging chandeliers and display cases—it was almost more like a small private museum or a historical center than a home (the outside looked like that too).
An odd thing about the house was that it had no mail delivery. The husband had a small office just down the street and all the house’s mail went there.
Across the street to the side was the ocean. There was a retaining wall holding it back and it wasn’t really visible except from the top of the house, but it was there. Somehow the water curved away from the road (an illusion, I’m sure the road curved away from the water) and where the beach met the retaining wall was a surfing spot. Due to how the roads and retaining walls came together there was no direct way from the house to the beach; to get there required a car because you had to go several miles down a highway-like road to get to the beach access area. But you could stand on the sidewalk and look over the wall to where it was deep.
On the other side of the tangle of roads was a pleasure garden/park. I was walking in there, waiting for Will to come and look at the house with me (for some reason he was in Massachusetts), and I met a man who had 3 robotic/mechanical pets. I can’t remember what animals they were, but they were exotic animals—a flamingo maybe? He was from California and he was trying to raise money to market his inventions. He told me about some implant he’d made for one of his dogs recently to extend its life more. I said, “Still, how much longer will it live?” and he gave me a kind of secret smile and said, “He’s already 30 years old” which of course is AMAZING for a dog. I wanted to give him money but then I started thinking about the high ceilings in the house and how much it would cost to heat.
I kept walking through the garden and I came upon a little display tent with information on butterflies. There were pictures of two kinds of orange and black butterflies. One kind was highly endangered and the signs in the tent begged people to capture them and bring them in. There were drawings showing how they would artificially inseminate the captured females and release them. The other kind of butterfly the tent posters instructed people to KILL. I was horrified. There were all kinds of diagrams showing that, although the butterflies looked very alike to the casual observers, they were actually easy to tell apart.
I left the tent and kept walking and came upon a tree literally covered with butterflies. It was like an orange and black heaving mass. I looked and sure enough they were all the “bad” butterflies. I felt terrible but I reached out to grab one and kill it and they were all FAKE—the work no doubt of the clever robotic man.
By that time we were really late for our appointment to look at the house, but Will still wasn’t there and neither was the real estate agent, who was an astrologer I know named Janet Booth. I went back to the house and talked to the husband who seemed to be angry. I called Will on my cell phone and he said he was on his way. I couldn’t reach Janet. I told the guy I was going back to work and it was right down the same street.
I went down the street several miles and the street turned into a store aisle where I was doing some kind of inventory and re-shelving of merchandise. A lady came over to me that worked with me and we were talking for a while about what I was doing and I guess I was doing a good job. She walked away and then this little girl came over. She was crying and she had lost her parents. I recognized her because a few days earlier the lady I had just been talking to and I had been in another store (shopping) and we saw someone help this same little girl find her parents. I didn’t want to deal with her but there was no one else around. I started to walk with her and then I ended up carrying her on my shoulders so she could see and she saw her father. He was in the check-out line with her mother, who I recognized from the other store. I carried her over and instead of being grateful they were angry that I dared to touch their child. I wanted to go off on them but I knew I’d lose my job.
I was supposed to go somewhere in my car but I’d had a vision that if I drove by a certain spot, very far out in the boonies, that I would get into a bad accident so I didn’t want to go.
Finally Will and Janet arrived and we went back to the house. The wife was home and offered to take us inside the chapel to see her owls. She was wearing a khaki police uniform. She had sealed all the doors leading into the chapel because she worried about people stealing or hurting her owls because of Harry Potter. She took injured owls and rehabilitated them and set them free and the ones who couldn’t be set free she was breeding and setting the babies free. To get inside the chapel was an exercise in acrobatics. You had a climb a smooth stick, which wasn’t flat but curvy like it used to be a tree trunk. Then you had to climb across another stick, again with no bark and curvy, and then down an even slicker pole on the other side. I figured I could get up the first pole, was doubtful about my ability to get across the second pole, and knew once I was there I’d never get back up the third pole. So to everyone’s annoyance I didn’t go in the chapel. I waited on the street behind it and my cousin Dennis was there waiting for the parade. I hung out with him while the parade went by but I wasn’t paying attention to the parade and he got angry with me for that.

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