I had an epic dream last night. I dreamed that I was in the house of my childhood--except that it wasn’t really. It wasn’t a house that in my waking life I had ever been in before, but the feeling of the big old rambling house was that it was ‘home’. It was a huge house, full of many, many rooms, each room full of things, the belongings, the accumulated memorabilia and ephemera of a lifetime.
The house, which had been added on to and added on to over the generations, was a house of the accumulations of centuries of living and rooms of memories of a long and full life. And we--the relatives with whom I was wandering through the house--had been alive a long, long time.
We wandered from room to room, looking at things, toys, games, photos, items and rooms that evoked memories and places. In some of the rooms were other relatives, old, still, but not really dead, just…part of the furniture, part of walls, the room itself in the particular room where they had chosen to finally take a rest. And that’s what we, the relatives I stood with, were looking for--the room to finally take our rest.
You see, we’d been alive for a long time, much longer than normal--like hundreds of years--and it had been a long, full and wonderful life. And we were thinking that perhaps, it was time to stop, sit, and rest and we were looking for the room where we wanted to spend the remainder of our time.
But as we wandered, looking at toys, photos, out the window, the stacks and piles of collected souvenirs of a lifetime of living, thinking through the memories that the plethora of belongings in each of the rooms evoked in us, one of us said, “There’re so many things I’d like to do just one more time before we rest.” “We haven’t played this game in awhile.” “I’d like to walk along the shores of Lake Superior again.” “I need to get back to Street Fair just one more time.” “I haven’t talked to so-and-so in ages…I should call her….” So we kept walking….walking through the rooms, the many rooms of the age-old mansion….