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Jul. 27th, 2003 03:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tylikI dreamt last night of houses. Well, one house in particular. It was a wood house, at least as old at the turn of the century house I grew up in, with bowed floor boards and walls that had been painted and papered many times in the past, and I loved it and was proud of it. Someone was coming for a visit, and someone who in the dream was my mother (but was quite unlike my mother in real life, rather more decisive and confident than my mother has ever been, and who I think was even built a little like me, but smaller) was helping me set up a guest bedroom. In the process of cleaning things up, moving things around and bringing in some (salvaged?) furniture we managed to set up two spare but comfortable guest bedrooms. I was delighted, having never had more than one before, and my "mother" wryly commented that we would have to find some way to let it be known without overtly bragging.
The more I think about her, the more I wonder about this mother I dreamt of who is not my actual mother.
I dream of houses a lot, exploring houses, moving in to houses... I think this was unusual in the amount of rearranging that was being done. I usually am drawn to older houses, but I was more actively working on changing this one.
Yesterday I bought my first large amounts of farmer's market tomatoes. They were deep colored and a little blotchy and scarred (unlike most of the ones I saw, that looked eerily, perfect, like grocery store tomatoes.) Inside they are an amazing rich, succulent red. About two thirds of them are simmering on the stove right now with wine and calamari. I will add hot peppers and oregano from the garden, too.
The first of the cherry and grape tomatoes are ripening on the vines outside, and my patty pan squash are producing. (I will have crook necked squash today, sauteed with squash blossoms.)
I started a story Friday, that I'd been kicking around for a while. But foolishly, while I'd only written a page or so, I hadn't saved the document, and we lost power, and it, last night.
The more I think about her, the more I wonder about this mother I dreamt of who is not my actual mother.
I dream of houses a lot, exploring houses, moving in to houses... I think this was unusual in the amount of rearranging that was being done. I usually am drawn to older houses, but I was more actively working on changing this one.
Yesterday I bought my first large amounts of farmer's market tomatoes. They were deep colored and a little blotchy and scarred (unlike most of the ones I saw, that looked eerily, perfect, like grocery store tomatoes.) Inside they are an amazing rich, succulent red. About two thirds of them are simmering on the stove right now with wine and calamari. I will add hot peppers and oregano from the garden, too.
The first of the cherry and grape tomatoes are ripening on the vines outside, and my patty pan squash are producing. (I will have crook necked squash today, sauteed with squash blossoms.)
I started a story Friday, that I'd been kicking around for a while. But foolishly, while I'd only written a page or so, I hadn't saved the document, and we lost power, and it, last night.
