Long before this weekend finally rolled around, I knew I'd be taking a nap a least once over the two days. I crawled under the covers just after lunchtime today, in spite of the bright sun in the bedroom and the yapping of the dogs across the way. Cranked open a bit, the window let in a breeze more spring-like than early December, as we're enjoying a short break from seasonal temperatures.
I drifted off fairly quickly, and that's when things got weird.
Sleep comes easily, but true rest is in scarce supply lately. My dreams have been both ultra vivid and disturbing in that close-to-real-life, worse-than-an-outright-nightmare way that leave you less rested at the end of the night than at the beginning. Apparently, that stress carries over to short naps as well.
The scene: my own condo, though folded in on itself yet expanding to suit the action. The characters: me, my mother-but-not-my-mother, my sister-but-not-my-sister, their two (maybe three) college age female sycophants and a random young man.
MBNMM and SBNMS and the sycophants strolled into my condo, where I was, oddly enough, just getting up from a nap. They proceeded to make themselves at home, criticizing my housekeeping, ripping apart and changing the quilt in progress, messing with the pot of soup on the stove and generally making themselves unwelcome. No matter how I tried, no matter that I threatened to both call the police and get a restraining order, they simply would not leave. They continued to meddle, with scenes shifting in that muddled, non-sequential way they do in dreams.
The fog cleared, however, for a conversation.
"It's too bad it happened that way."
"It's their home, it's a shame."
"How much do they need?"
"Just a bit, a few thousand."
"Not much at all; I'm sure she can handle it. Ten thousand in all."
As one, all four (or five) women turned to me.
Lightening struck, and I realized they expected me to pay the arrears on a mortgage. Not even one of their mortgages, but that of a complete stranger. Oh, heck no.
I proceeded to throw a fit, and all the women scattered to various parts of the house. I found two of the followers lolling on the couch with a random young man; he, at least, left when I ordered him to go. The young women wandered off, to undo some of the the modifications they had made to my quilt.
I woke from the nap, unrested, but with an understanding of where the dream originated.
There is an eight unit ranch style condo across from my building, with a nice, tree lined path between the two. While our building has underground parking, the ranch units have garages on the west end of theirs. The owners use the path to get to the garage, often meeting and stopping to chat somewhere along the way.
I'm pretty certain the dream stemmed from a half-heard conversation that drifted from the path up through my open window. You see, the condo next to mine was foreclosed on back in the spring. Just before I drifted off, I heard some of my across-the-way neighbors say hello. It's a truly beautiful day, and they stopped to chat.
Apparently, about the vacant condo.
That's my story, anyway, and I'm sticking to it. Better that this dream began based on an overheard conversation than my own unresolved issues.
Right?
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