[continued from previous entry]
The family place, now long gone -- my only other experience with a security system. When I bought this place in '99, it needed a fair amount of work. Two of the items on the list:
-- replacing a couple of flimsy doors (one, the door from the laundry to the garage had an inch-high gap at the bottom, essentially providing a superhighway for any critters that wanted to come in from the cold) with insulated metal ones, and
-- changing the locks in all doors leading outside (for some reason, there are four such doors in this heap I call home) to deadbolts, key-locked both inside and out.
This is a low-risk area -- a gravel road with a handful of houses scattered around. Passing traffic is limited. People watch out for each other. Replacing doors and locks took care of all my security concerns. Until now, facing the idea of being away for many weeks, something more needed.
Now when I go downstairs into the laundry room, first thing I see is the light from the read-out on the keypad, above that the system's control box. Brings a whole different feel to the room, as if something alive had taken up residence there.
Anyway. The install took place Thursday. Thursday night I had a long, involved dream, its story line moving through one twist after another, changes in direction and fortune that took me to all over that dreamworld's map, a persistent sense of danger and threat looming behind it all. Until I finally returned home, home in this dream being my family's old place, the one with the security system. I stepped off a late-night train, was picked up by someone I'd met much earlier in the dream. A person who, at our first meeting, had nowhere to live. I suggested they stay in the family's place while I was away, handed them a set of keys. This person (played by -- don't ask me why -- Jim Carrey) drove me home from the train along two-lanes, us catching up as we went. Passing houses showed dark windows, passing towns lay quiet, the local world asleep, the hour tipping past midnight, sliding toward early morning. At home, exhausted, I got out of the truck, said good-night went inside and to sleep.
My eyes opened around 9 a.m. to sunlight and, er, Jim standing inside the door to my room, staring at me with an expression between worry and indecisiveness. I pulled myself from under the covers, gradually made my way outside to stretch, breathe fresh air, soak up some morning rays, Jim babbling nonsense the entire way, apparently trying to keep me from going outside. I ignored him, stepped out the door. And found myself in the middle of a yard-sale type event, people all around checking out items for sale. Items, I realized, that belonged to me and my family. I wheeled on Jim, the panicked expression on his face confirmed he had no good explanation. In the middle of chasing everyone out of there, I woke up, found myself here in my warm bed, the clock beside me reading 4 a.m.
Strange. Or maybe not. Getting a security system stirred up some stuff, my dream life let me know about it.
Ah, well. Life moves on, everything changes. You know?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Along Main Street, Montpelier, Vermont -- French's Block, on the only day of sunshine in a week otherwise devoted to gray skies and rain:
España, te echo de menos.
rws 7:53 PM [+]
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