A serial dream (a chapter book dream?)
However, I thought they could be put together, somehow, to make a snug cozy shelter house. But they were really too heavy for me to work with. I dragged a dozen or so to the center of the field. But I couldn't figure out how to build with the pricklywood, because of the spirals at the ends of the branches.
The branches seen from a distance are black and barky, but up close the wood (the inner wood) has a rich reddish gleam like redwood or mahogany. However the plan was to leave the bark on, so the shelter (house) would look like a wind blown pile of tree limbs.
Rex thought I was crazy, but other than helping me put the limbs in straight lines (such as they were), he left me alone with the project.
The property, after all, was mine. It had been given to me by my friend Linda, a Canadian writer. Not sure how/why she acquired it or how it was passed on to me. An inheritance was involved somehow.
And a husband. (Don't ask me. In the dream I knew the back story; awake I don't.)
And the dream moved into the house. It gets very confusing there. Its a big house, all spacey and hardwood floors and painted wainscoted walls and a wide carpeted stairway that descends to an entryway by the front door. There's something in this part about a woman named Melissa (who was me) and a preacher husband. Who was my husband, but not Rex or anyone I recognized or knew.)
Something to do with adding on a two room study to the side of the house that looks across the field into the woods. But we couldn't have people in to show it off because the place was shamefully embarrassingly infested.
So, I got very aggressive in treating the infestation and ended it. I showed my husband (the stranger) and he was pleased and proud and happy that he could now show off his addition. As soon as we cleaned up all the evidence of the infestation)
We cleaned it up together, and invited people in.
I entertained my friends on the deck and he in the study.
Someone (Linda??) asked about the infestation and how I had handled it. Something came up about a water system alongside of the cellar of the house and Ronn asked to see it,.
I showed him where I had reconnected and turned on a certain stream/waterflow, and he commented that that had seemed to solve the problem.
I immediately got huffy and told him that it was all his fault to start with because he had told me that there was no stream/flow there, it was just a relic of an older system or maybe an overflow trench of some sort. He said he could see now that he had been wrong.
We all went back out on the deck and were looking across the field/yard (possibly the deck was the 2nd room of the add-on?) at the lined-up Pricklywood. We began a spirited discussion of the way to stack/build/integrate them into a shelter home.
The closing scene was a friendly gathering of friends and fellow writers talking and laughing and plotting and planning, while the Rest Of Life is going on inside in a clean (in every sense) and beautiful home.
Branches.heavy gnarled branches knocked down by a storm, on the ground in a field next to my yard. They were a specific kind of branches with a specific name, which I can't remember right now. Stickerwood or Pricklywood, or something like that. The branches were huge, but curled and twisted into bizarre shapes.
However, I thought they could be put together, somehow, to make a snug cozy shelter house. But they were really too heavy for me to work with. I dragged a dozen or so to the center of the field. But I couldn't figure out how to build with the pricklywood, because of the spirals at the ends of the branches.
The branches seen from a distance are black and barky, but up close the wood (the inner wood) has a rich reddish gleam like redwood or mahogany. However the plan was to leave the bark on, so the shelter (house) would look like a wind blown pile of tree limbs.
Rex thought I was crazy, but other than helping me put the limbs in straight lines (such as they were), he left me alone with the project.
The property, after all, was mine. It had been given to me by my friend Linda, a Canadian writer. Not sure how/why she acquired it or how it was passed on to me. An inheritance was involved somehow.
And a husband. (Don't ask me. In the dream I knew the back story; awake I don't.)
And the dream moved into the house. It gets very confusing there. Its a big house, all spacey and hardwood floors and painted wainscoted walls and a wide carpeted stairway that descends to an entryway by the front door. There's something in this part about a woman named Melissa (who was me) and a preacher husband. Who was my husband, but not Rex or anyone I recognized or knew.)
Something to do with adding on a two room study to the side of the house that looks across the field into the woods. But we couldn't have people in to show it off because the place was shamefully embarrassingly infested.
So, I got very aggressive in treating the infestation and ended it. I showed my husband (the stranger) and he was pleased and proud and happy that he could now show off his addition. As soon as we cleaned up all the evidence of the infestation)
We cleaned it up together, and invited people in.
I entertained my friends on the deck and he in the study.Someone (Linda??) asked about the infestation and how I had handled it. Something came up about a water system alongside of the cellar of the house and Ronn asked to see it,.
I showed him where I had reconnected and turned on a certain stream/waterflow, and he commented that that had seemed to solve the problem.
I immediately got huffy and told him that it was all his fault to start with because he had told me that there was no stream/flow there, it was just a relic of an older system or maybe an overflow trench of some sort. He said he could see now that he had been wrong.
We all went back out on the deck and were looking across the field/yard (possibly the deck was the 2nd room of the add-on?) at the lined-up Pricklywood. We began a spirited discussion of the way to stack/build/integrate them into a shelter home.
The closing scene was a friendly gathering of friends and fellow writers talking and laughing and plotting and planning, while the Rest Of Life is going on inside in a clean (in every sense) and beautiful home.
