The anti-Chris Knight

Judy dreams of horses, but I dream of homes, where they might be, and who might inhabit them. I think that they are homes of my past life, not in a sense of reincarnation, but homes inhabited by who I used to be.  Why did Judy dream of horses?  To retrieve her lost winsomeness?  To distract her inimical internal dialogue with a conversation with an animal?  To express her suppressed temerity?  Dreams of homes allow me to open doors that I did not know exist.  I open them to find secrets behind incandescent lights, smiling facades, straightened hair, and blue-lit white walls.  

There exists a home with life in the ceilings.  Three stories, too many fantasies, and one singular tale that pervades every dream that I dream.  I crawl in the ceilings of this home to escape the horror that unfolds between them.  In the ceiling I feel safe.  To separate myself from what is happening below, I am safe.  Yet, I am uninvolved.  I crawl from room to room and onward to new homes.