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.