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Dream: 6.22.15

June 22, 2015

In the universe of the dream, I was living with my parents, age early 30s-ish, and as things began, I had been out all night. I’d been driving my father’s car (maroon — I think that one was a Buick?), and I needed to get it back in my parents’ driveway as soon as I could. Preferably before the sun came up.

{I don’t remember the part of the dream that explains what I did next, but} I drove to the Karwatowiczes’ house. I knew how to jimmy the lock on the side door, and I crept into the house, trying to recall the path to the garage, from the inside. There was enough ambient light to see by. I walked by bamboo blinds on one door’s window. I passed a living room full of blonde wood furniture, white walls, kind of an airy Swedish Modern look to the décor. I stopped and took a moment to just feel the place. To remember my past in this place. The house… remembered me. I was welcome in it, and I was glad to be back, however briefly.

As I entered the kitchen, I realized a person was moving around in there. A man. The father. {In my mind, I thought of him, and addressed him as “Dr. K”, but in universe, he, and the 2 sons of his I had loved were all doctors, although I think Tony had a Ph.D., not an M.D.}

I decided to brazen it out. I said, “My father’s car is in your driveway, which probably looks like I was here all night [implication: with one of your sons], but I wasn’t. I just want to pick it up and take it home before my parents wake up and notice it’s still gone.”

Dr. K said he’d already noticed the car. He seemed to believe me (!).

He treated me like an interesting person that he liked and respected during the really pleasant chat about stuff {that I don’t recall} that followed. It was surreal, though, because I was half-aware that time was passing, and I really needed to get going, soonest. And yet, this interchange was so enjoyable, I couldn’t make myself leave.

I kept misplacing my glasses, then having to wander around the first floor, looking for them {both before talking to Dr. K, and during}. I also kept misplacing the car keys.

Dr. K said something about having seen my parents recently. I said something back that ended with, “Hopefully someday soon I’ll move out and get a good job and < pause > never have to see them again.” Dr. K looked taken aback; there was an awkward silence, during which I recalled that he actually liked his own kids.

I heard someone moving around upstairs. I wanted to go upstairs, but I knew I really couldn’t — it would be so rude.

A man descended the (long) staircase, coming out of shadows. {I had multiple perspectives, so that I both saw them coming from where I was standing in the hallway, and was also sitting in the kitchen with their father.} Dr. K said something about Adam; I replied, “I haven’t seen Adam in years!”

I had been hoping the person approaching was Tony, but it was Adam.

He didn’t look anything like the person I used to know: he towered over me; his hair was so dark it was almost black, and it was oiled into ringlets, with a buzzcut on top. Without any thought in my head, I reached out to touch his hair. I kept touching it as he started talking; he didn’t seem to mind or even notice really. I was so distracted by his hair not even feeling like it used to that I didn’t catch anything that he said until I took my hand away. He was telling a long involved anecdote about his hair, and their neighbors; his tone of voice was petulant, needling.

I realized he didn’t know who I was — he didn’t remember me at all — and he wasn’t the slightest bit curious about this unfamiliar person talking to his father in the kitchen very early one morning. He just didn’t care.

I… looked at him one last time, and mentally… let him go.

I told Dr. K that if my parents woke up before I got back, “it won’t matter what the Real Story is — I’ll never get to tell it; they’ll just punish me as if the story were whatever lurid / criminal / depraved thing they’re imagining.”

Finally, I really couldn’t delay any longer: it was time to go. I walked out to the driveway, saw the car. Realized something problematic, went back inside. Adam was gone. Dr. K was not in the kitchen; I roved through other parts of the first floor, finally finding him in a study, where he was working on something. I caught his attention, gingerly, and asked if he could drive Automatic? He said, “It just takes a bit of attention at first. Then it’s fine.” I laughed, with relief, saying, “I haven’t driven an Automatic since… I got my first car in 1991.” So, okay, Dr. K wasn’t going to drive the car home for me.

I left again, went back to the driveway. I slowly took in what was there now: a red commercial car parked on top of a red pickup truck. It took me a while to figure out that my father’s car was no longer there.

For a second I thought Adam might have moved it, then realized, to my dismay, my father must have woken up, realized it was gone, and somehow knew to check here for it??!? Then used his own car keys to take it home. There was going to be hell to pay!

I set off across the grass, towards my parents’ neighborhood.

{This last scene, the layout was of our neighborhood in Glen Ellyn, not Naperville.}



Long after I’d moved away, then married and lived out of state, my parents got to know the K parents through some church group. That’s how it came about that my mother got a Christmas photo with the whole K clan in 2000, and she saved it for me. When I saw it, Tony jumped out at me, but I had to do a process of elimination to figure out who Adam was — he no longer looked anything like the person I used to know. (But he hadn’t become taller than me, didn’t have dark brown hair, or ringlets. He was just… kind of colorless, blended into the wallpaper.)

= = =

30+ years of dreaming of Adam and Tony, but I think this is the first time their father has appeared in one of my dreams. I was actually acquainted with their father, and I actually did like him, and like talking to him. The dream-Dr K, like the real person I knew in the 1980s, had reddish hair, a kind of quiet presence, was really smart. Soft-spoken, inwardly-focused. Courteous. Kind.

= = =

I really did know the K house, but in an unusual way. The forest between my parents’ house and Pioneer Park, where I spent many happy hours as a kid, gradually became a subdivision. The summer I was 15, I found out from a kid I barely knew in some convoluted way that the K’s were having a new house built in that subdivision. I went over there, befriended all the construction guys, and thereby found the house that was going to be the K’s house. I went over to their house every chance I got. I spent hours walking around the upstairs, looking out the (framed) windows, trying to figure out which room would be Tony’s, be Adam’s. I imagined myself in the house, or maybe, really, as the house.

Huh. I’d forgotten all about that. I imagined I was the house.

The only other house I’d ever imagined myself being was… Gramma’s house.

For years and years, when I dreamed, my “soul” or “deepest self” appeared as a character in the persona of Gramma’s house. Until now, I’d always thought that was because of how close I was to Gramma, and also that I’d lived with her, before I was married. But what if it was also because I’d imagined I was the house?

The K’s house absolutely invokes me being 15, which was a turning point in my life, the magical watershed time I’m always wishing I could go back to, and take a different path. There was this… moment… not a quick 60-second moment, but a timeless / Time Has No Meaning *moment* where, at 15, I knew who I was, and what I should be, and I thought I could get there.

= = =

This is really freaky, but in a Good Way.

= = =

Am I back at that crossroads? And now, I can choose differently. I have the inner resources to be successful at what matters to me — I just have to dare, to do.

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