The house I grew up in and the backyard with my playhouse in a deluge, I can’t find any other pics of it. It was white with its own little picket fence and paintings from nursery rhymes all over it like the ginger bread man and the little old woman in a shoe. The original builder of the house built it and did the paintings. The windows and doors were pale blue. and the attic entrance was in the back in a tiny backyard.
I’m feeling drugged out and I didn’t even do anything fun. I had 3 huge nightmares last night and then slept through my alarm and just barely made the bus.
The first one doesn’t sound bad but then some nightmares don’t. Somehow my childhood playhouse was converted into an apartment and was sitting in a cement yard with a bunch of tiny trailers and I finally met the woman that was allegedly living in the tear drop trailer next to me and it turned out she wasn’t living there after all. I was living in this trailer graveyard all alone. My playhouse was 2 story and the downstairs had tiny windows that swung out and a bench seat that opened for storage and an unfinished attic up above which used to be where I hid as a child and teen when Mom was threatening me with something. Once she chased me out of the house in my underwear when I was about 13 and ended up there in one of my dad’s moving blankets from the garage. For some reason she never figured out that was where I hid so the space itself has fear embedded in it and that alone may have been what was scary about the dream. When I woke up I was trying to remember how I used to get into the attic and I couldn’t remember if I had a ladder our something else to boost me up. That didn’t help.
The other two involved work issues and are too ridiculous to describe, imagine Fantasia with math problems.
I wanna go make mimis, yes, I can Spanglish sometimes