Dream of:15 October 2002 "Listing My House"
As I was walking along Fourth Street inPortsmouth, about a half black east of Gay Street, I noticed Hatcher's (a local real estate broker) real estate office in a large white frame house in the middle of the block on the south side. For quite some time I had been thinking of listing my house for sale and now seemed an appropriate moment. I walked up to the house and stepped inside.
The spacious interior of the house had been converted into large offices. As I looked over the desks and people, a young fellow (about 20 years old) stepped up to me and offered to help me. I asked him if Mr. Hatcher were here and I told him I would like to talk to Hatcher. The fellow told me that Hatcher wasn't here at the moment, but said that someone else could help me, and he asked me to sit down.
I sat down; but I wasn't pleased. I wanted to talk with Hatcher in person and not some underling. However, other people were obviously willing to talk to someone other than Hatcher: six or seven desks were in the room and customers were sitting at each desk and talking to employees of the office. Were all the customers here to list their houses for sale? I wasn't even sure that I would actually list my house; I wanted more information first, especially information about how much commission I would have to pay for selling the house. If I finally talked to someone, I would first say I was simply "thinking" about listing my house.
However, I would still like to talk with Hatcher in person and finally, I realized I was making a mistake by being in this house – I should be in theGay Street House. I recalled that Hatcher had bought the Gay Street House several years ago and had done extensive remodeling work on the House; he had converted the Gay Street House into his main office. He was probably there and that was where I should be. I could just walk into the House, introduce myself as Steven Collier, and explain that I used to live in the House; we would immediately have something in common.
I stood up and since no one was paying attention to me, I headed toward the door. On the way, I noticed the intricate woodwork along the walls and how well it had been maintained. I walked outside and headed west on Fourth Street toward Gay Street. I hoped no one would step outside and holler for me to come back; if so, I would just keep walking.
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