Dream Journal
I was walking down the hallway of my old church. The people were acting very odd; I couldn’t tell what was exactly different, but that there was a difference was obvious. I walked into my mother’s Sunday school room, and all the children in it were being extremely well behaved. I was very concerned and left through the building’s side door.
I walked through a small, run down neighborhood looking for a specific house. The only thing I knew about it was that it was white with red trim. I was pretty certain that it was in this neighborhood and on this specific cul-de-sac. In the middle of the cul-de-sac was an empty foundation; the house that once stood atop it was torn down a few weeks prior.
Finally deciding that the house I needed to find was the one that had been torn down, I walked by a white house with black trim. I had seen this house before, however this time I was close enough to notice that the black paint was quite wet.
There was a man in his mid twenties standing by one of the windows. On the window ledge he was lining up small roses. He was mentally impaired to some degree and spoke kind of slowly. I asked him if the house had just been painted. He told me it had been. I then asked him if the house had been red. He said that it was.
Standing beside him, I felt that the house had been repainted to fool me. I needed whatever was inside that house, and someone was trying to keep me out. I felt angry and frustrated.
The man at the window asked me if his lined up roses made me want to steal a car. I said, “No, but talking to you sure makes me want to steal a car.” He turned to me and grabbed my breasts. It felt wonderful.