A Different Kind of Dream Home

in , , , by Erin Lynne, July 10, 2011


Those of you that know me well know that I grew up in Grayson, Kentucky, and that my parents still live in the house they built when my mom was pregnant with me. The only moving I did when I was younger was from room to room (to room to room!) in this house. All of my Christmases, nearly every Thanksgiving and Easter, and even most of my ordinary days have happened within those walls.There are memories in every room, fading high pinball scores on the cement walls in the basement, hidden messages written on closet walls, and somewhere a diamond and sapphire ring Mom let me borrow once (I SWEAR I just shook my hand and it flew off.  Where is that damn thing?!?!)
So maybe two decades of life and memories are why, after not living there for eleven years, when I dream about "home" this is the house that appears.  It's really bizarre.  It's not like I don't dream about other places either.  This winter I got snowed in at the Frat House one night, and that night I dreamed about: the Frat House.  A couple of weeks ago, before Megan high tailed it out of Kentucky forever, I went to visit and stayed in her condo (or as she so lovingly calls it: shoebox), and that night I dreamed about her condo. But after renting a townhouse for six years, and buying one five years ago, I have never had a dream about "home" that took place anywhere other than 228 Shady Lane. Often (as dreams sometimes do) this house is magically transported to a closer zip code (as I can get there quickly from work, the mall, Commonwealth Stadium, etc) but it still sits atop the wooded hill that holds it in Grayson.  Last night I dreamed I had friends over to my house: friends that I have known for less than a year, and whom my parents have never laid eyes on, but it was the house in Grayson they were coming to, and I even told them when they left late at night that they needed to be careful, because my mom was a light sleeper and could easily hear the front door open from her bedroom.
Maybe my house now doesn't really feel like a home... Maybe I'll have to be gone from there for another ten years before I stop dreaming about it... Or maybe it's just another thing about me that makes me weird...   Whatever the reason, I guess you can file this under "Interesting Facts about Erin"
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