Dream of: 06 July 1999 "Old Homes"

I was alone in a car in Ohio, headed toward the northern part of the state, driving from Portsmouth. I was going to some kind of convention. As I watched the countryside flow by, I thought how nice it would be to smoke some marijuana on a trip like this – but I didn't have any pot with me. I thought perhaps when I returned to Portsmouth I would look up Lane, who used to sell me marijuana, and see if he had any. It seemed as if pot were always easy to find in Portsmouth. Of course finding pot might be more difficult now, since I had lost contact with almost everyone I knew in Portsmouth.

I was also reading as I drove; I would pick up my book, read for a while, then set the book back down. I also picked up a phone, called my mother, and talked with her for a while. I told her that I was just about to pull off the main highway, on to Route 259, and that I only had about 10 more miles to go. When I hung up the phone, I pulled up to a stop sign, and prepared to turn onto the smaller road. I was startled to see a black sports utility vehicle racing toward me from my left. The SUV recklessly ran off the road and passed behind me, finally braking to a stop in the parking lot of a small store on my right.

I quickly turned right on Route 259, and continued my journey over the winding and hilly road, similar to the roads in my own Gallia County. I had never been in this part of the state before, and I reflected about how much of Ohio I had never seen. Of course most people there had probably never been in Gallia County in the southern part of the state. I wondered if the political representatives from Gallia County knew what the other parts of the state looked like.

I remembered a large part of my youth had been passed in northern Ohio, in the House in Clarksfield and the House in West Salem. I pulled out a map, and as I drove, looked for the two little towns of Clarksfield and West Salem. Finally I found them. I figured if I wanted to visit the towns, I would need about an hour to drive to them. I remembered when I wrote my dreams on my web site, I had been making web pages to describe the houses in which I had lived, houses which occurred over and over again in my dreams. If I were to visit the houses in Clarksfield and West Salem, and take pictures of them, the pictures would make nice additions to my web pages. I was sure the West Salem House would still be there; it had been such a nice big brick house. I could probably take a whole roll of film on each house. After all, I had lived in those houses for six years.

If I didn't visit the houses today, I would definitely plan to visit them sometime in the future. Perhaps I could even visit them with my father. Every time I visited Portsmouth, he would always ask me if I wanted to do something special. Usually I didn't have anything in mind; but the next time he picked me up at the airport in Columbus, instead of heading south to Portsmouth, I could tell him I wanted to drive north to West Salem and Clarksfield, to visit the houses there, and take pictures of them. I now felt a strong need to have pictures of those houses.

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