clevermanka (
clevermanka) wrote2019-02-05 09:26 am
1011
This morning I had a long, detailed dream about my old place at 1011 Tennessee.
Someone was remodeling it with lots of big, open spaces and a better staircase to the second floor. I was walking around it, feeling so much happiness about moving back in (my old neighbor Smirl was moving back upstairs, too). I told the guy leading me around that when he was ready to sell it, I wanted to be first to have the option to buy it. The dream went on forever, and even when I knew I should start waking up I stayed in the dream because it felt so damn good to be me in that space again.
I know it wasn't (necessarily) about being in the house again. It was about being back in the body that lived there and having all the options and opportunities that went along with being vibrant and healthy. I went up and down the new staircase multiple times just because I could.
As I came into regular consciousness I felt the transition from happiness and excitement shift to depression. The feeling of disappointment and sadness is so heavy in my chest right now. My throat is tight and I'm ten seconds and a hangnail away from breaking into tears.
That house/apartment never left my heart. I drive by it at least a few times a month and every time I have an emotional surge of "mine." I don't miss a lot of things about it--the lack of laundry facility, the unheated bathroom on my floor that used to be a back porch, no central A/C, the tiny kitchen. Everything else, though--the amount of space that was (mostly) all mine for so long, the location, my awesome upstairs neighbors, the person I was then--the loss of those things are a physical ache.
It's strange to have so much of my identity-memory tied to a physical location eighteen years after I moved out. I feel like I left a lot of myself there when I stupidly moved out for stupid reasons. I would like to be that person again, but there's no getting her back just like there's no getting back into that house (not the one I remember, anyway).
The passage of time and change are inevitable, but they can really suck.

Someone was remodeling it with lots of big, open spaces and a better staircase to the second floor. I was walking around it, feeling so much happiness about moving back in (my old neighbor Smirl was moving back upstairs, too). I told the guy leading me around that when he was ready to sell it, I wanted to be first to have the option to buy it. The dream went on forever, and even when I knew I should start waking up I stayed in the dream because it felt so damn good to be me in that space again.
I know it wasn't (necessarily) about being in the house again. It was about being back in the body that lived there and having all the options and opportunities that went along with being vibrant and healthy. I went up and down the new staircase multiple times just because I could.
As I came into regular consciousness I felt the transition from happiness and excitement shift to depression. The feeling of disappointment and sadness is so heavy in my chest right now. My throat is tight and I'm ten seconds and a hangnail away from breaking into tears.
That house/apartment never left my heart. I drive by it at least a few times a month and every time I have an emotional surge of "mine." I don't miss a lot of things about it--the lack of laundry facility, the unheated bathroom on my floor that used to be a back porch, no central A/C, the tiny kitchen. Everything else, though--the amount of space that was (mostly) all mine for so long, the location, my awesome upstairs neighbors, the person I was then--the loss of those things are a physical ache.
It's strange to have so much of my identity-memory tied to a physical location eighteen years after I moved out. I feel like I left a lot of myself there when I stupidly moved out for stupid reasons. I would like to be that person again, but there's no getting her back just like there's no getting back into that house (not the one I remember, anyway).
The passage of time and change are inevitable, but they can really suck.

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Yes, exactly. I'm....sorry? that you understand this so well. It's not a fun feeling.
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I hope you feel better. And it's good that you have the memories.
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The dream has stayed with me — I keep thinking about it, seeing it again, and feeling a similar emotional resonance. I want to cry about it, too, even though there was nothing in the dream that was inherently sad....
I don't know what any of that means, but I think it's an odd coincidence, and I do know what you mean when you talk about identity-memory being tied to a certain place. Every time I go by my childhood home, I always think "Mine," too.
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Eh. tl;dr - I'm always living in the last house
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Now there's a metaphor, eh?
The revisiting does hurt
I can only imagine that Tenn place redone, it was a Grand House.
I don't have dreams about the house, but in any dreams I'm partnered up, it's always him. I wish I'd known enough to stick around and be there for him, instead of being scared he was going to drag me under with him. I didn't know how strong I really was.
I truly hope that someday we both have a place that gives us a sense of home as we are in that time/space, and not feeling that we're making do with the space we have.
Re: The revisiting does hurt
I think about how we were then A LOT. And I think, despite all the shitty mistakes we made, we really were living maybe not our best but our truest lives during that period. Gods, we were amazing, weren't we? I don't think that's nostalgia or putting a rosy spin on it. It really was fucking magical.
Re: The revisiting does hurt
I know we had a core group of friends (women) with a common interest, too, that's supposed to be healthy. I don't have that...for years now.
I've been wondering if getting back to actually staying in my old mystical ways would make this life better.
Re: The revisiting does hurt
I wonder about delving back into witchy stuff again every once in a while, just for the comfort and structure.
Re: The revisiting does hurt
You know, now that I look back at the era, we had very little social media to distract us, so we did have to actually see each other.. what, it was BBs and then LJ and ...lol...yahoogroups.
I read my first couple months entries from Ole LJ...holy sheet, we were doing a LOT back then!
Re: The revisiting does hurt
WE WERE SO BUSY =D
Re: The revisiting does hurt
Quarterly on the solstice/equinox (in general) or other witchy times would be cool.
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