Dream of: 19 April 1998 "Old Houses"

When I awoke, I needed a few moments to remember where I was. Finally I recalled that I was in an upstairs bedroom of a huge, old, run-down house owned by my father, in Portsmouth. I lay on my back, wondering what I would do when I got up. I vaguely recalled having had some marijuana the day before, and I wondered what I had done with it. If I could find it, perhaps I could go upstairs to the attic and smoke some. As I tried to remember where I could have stashed the pot, I suddenly realized I was holding the rolled-up baggie of grass in my right hand, which was resting on my forehead. I sat up in the bed, thinking I could go upstairs right now.

I looked around the room – I wasn't alone. Against one wall was another bed with a young fellow (17-18 years old) sleeping in it. I had already met the fellow – he was also staying in this little disheveled room. I hardly knew him, but I wondered if he might want to smoke some pot with me. I was uncertain whether I should ask him because I didn't know if he smoked.

As I sat and pondered, I realized I was chewing a piece of bubble gum. The consistency of the gum had become unpleasant, very sticky and hard to chew. With a powerful puff, I blew the gum out of my mouth, past the bed where the other fellow was lying, and out an open window. By now the fellow was awake, and he seemed surprised by my action, but he didn't get up out of the bed and I was uncertain whether I should say anything to him.

Instead I began thinking of what I would be doing today. My future seemed uncertain — I hardly knew what to do with myself. I wasn't even certain how long I would stay in this house, because I suddenly remembered that my father had recently sold the house. I thought that was too bad. It was a large house with many rooms. An old lady had been renting part of the house and then subletting some of the rooms, but she had been very inefficient. If I had had the chance, I could have fixed up all the rooms and then rented them out to students from Shawnee State University (the college in Portsmouth). I probably could have received a good income from renting the rooms, but now it was too late. The house had already been sold, and I could do nothing about it.

It was possible that I could find another Portsmouth house which I could buy and fix up. I remembered once knowing a fellow who years ago had bought a large brick house in the older section of town, down around Fourth Street. The last time I had seen the house, the whole front had been torn off. I wondered if the fellow had ever completely repaired the house. I could do something like that, but I doubted I would.

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