I had a remarkable dream last night.
In it, I visited a place I thought I had known as a child; a house with some outbuildings in back. I was there with other family members for some reason, perhaps preparing it for sale. I was sad because I didn't see one of the buildings I expected; the one that had been my favorite because it was my grandfather's playground. I had such very fond memories of looking at his collections of treasures.
We went into one of the buildings, and into an inner room, and it turned out to be the very place I had hungered to see. All around on shelf after shelf were his collections of interesting things; mostly groups of related antiques and collectibles, but newer things as well. And in some places there were his inventions in various stages and models.
As I walked through the place I was in tears, crying harder as I discovered more and more things that I remembered from so many years before. My heart felt as if it would break with the joy and gratitude of it.
It seems like the crying and the exploration went on and on and on.
The fascinating part is that I -really did- recognize these things, and it really -was- a reunion for me. However, they did not exist in reality.
There was no inventor grandfather, there was no home with treasure-laden outbuildings. But I -had- experienced them before; in other dreams.
Yet my joy at the reunion with these memories was very real, and very deep.
What a strange gift...
damn girlfriend, that's deep
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