My Recurring Room Dreams

I have this recurring dream, in which I’m in the home of a loved one, or maybe my own home, and soon realize that the home has a secret quarters-rooms or a space that can only be accessed through a secret door.  Sometimes it’s an attic, atop a tiny ladder. Or, in one case, the wall folded open to a tiny spiral staircase.

The dreams are always a euphoric feeling, giving me the sensation of having found something very meaningful and sentimental there.  In one dream I was in my paternal grandmother’s house, and found a room full of very old dresses and women’s clothes.  They were carefully hung on dress forms, gloves folded in pairs, hats placed neatly on dressers.  In another, my maternal grandmother’s home, a beautiful sitting room, aglow in the sunshine.  The walls were light colored, and blue sky melted in through geometrically shaped sky-lights, placed in angled vaulted ceilings.  (A remarkable task, if you knew the size of my grandma’s tiny bungalow.)

In the most pleasant of all these dreams, my own home had a secret chamber.  I found a secret door in the middle of a wall, papered in victorian reds and golds.   I pushed through it to find full of lush, leafy plants, and more sunshine.  It was as if there was a greenhouse, hidden away in my own home, steamy and damp.  Plants were stacked rows high, again in a room with domed ceilings, one or two plush arm chairs arranged for reading.

The rooms feel warm, serene, and comfortable.  As I said, it’s always a pleasant feeling-one that I don’t want to shake off when I do wake up.

It was my husband that first pointed out that I have this recurring dream.  I haven’t had it for a  few months, and I’ve been missing it, wondering now and then what the dream even means.  But, now that I’m writing this, I realize that the dream has always taken place in the home of a woman, even if that woman is me.  I’m thinking the secret rooms are like wombs, nurturing, and a warm place for growth and serenity.  Maybe the reason I haven’t had this dream lately is because I’m openly looking forward to having a child, as opposed to the secret longing that existed before.  When my desire to be a mother was secret, the rooms were secrets.  Now that I feel free to think about it, the rooms are no longer secret, no longer warranting a dream.

An open request to my favorite Dream: I hope you’ll come back.  Maybe tonight?  Maybe some other time?  But, I’d hate to think you’re gone forever.