Nowhere to Call Home

Last night our Princess was really feeling bad as bedtime came and went. We cuddled on the couch and watched TV. As she grew sleepy I tucked her in on the couch and moved over to the loveseat and pulled a blanket over me. I drifted off myself.
During the next hour I dreamed some weird stuff. We were in our home which didn’t look anything like home. Someone knocked at our solid wood door. I assured everyone it was okay, but I soon realized that the people behind the door were full of ill will and mal-intent. We gathered everyone (and I think it was more than just me and the crew) and headed toward safety the only way we could. Out the back. It was a sunny day filled with the darkness of the evil coming after us. I knew we wouldn’t be coming back to this house.

I looked back in through a window as we were about to leave. What came to my dream mind was my scarves. My flannel plaid, big, comfy, and warm scarves. I was sad. I knew I could not risk going back in after them. I think I’m so drawn to them in real life because they remind me of shirts Mama made for Daddy over the years. As I took my first step off the porch to safety while carrying a little one, I thought, trying to console myself, Well I can always order another one sometime.
And that’s when the realization hit me. I wouldn’t have a home. There would be no address to send anything to. Ever. Again. No home.
I woke up then.
Blinking.
TV on.
Our Princess was watching the screen quietly from her nest on the couch. Awake. I looked at the time. An hour had passed.
After I got her situated comfortably and tucked in for sleep, I was finally ready for sleep myself. My Fella has a theory that if you sleep somewhere other than your own bed, you will have strange dreams. Maybe. But my dreams the rest of the night–in my own bed–were just as strange.
And while they were full of the threat of danger too, none were as troubling.
I have been bothered by that first dream a lot today.
Because that must be what some of my friends without a roof over their heads feel like. Nowhere to call home, nowhere to get mail. Nowhere to let their guard down and just be. They also have to walk away from their things sometimes. I have heard numerous stories of one friend or another having his few possessions stolen, confiscated, thrown away, crushed under rubble, destroyed in the rain, or blown away by the wind.
And I was tempted to go back in after scarves? Of all the stuff to have been upset over? Not pictures? Not books? Not a gift from my parents? Scarves?
I don’t even know.
And if that didn’t feel shallow enough, I also had that thought–oh well, I’ll just get another one. Sigh. Where did that come from?
I was not raised like that. We were taught to take care of what we had. Fix what was broken. Mend what was torn. We did not replace things easily if ever.

I know I could probably sit down with my Psych 101 book and interpret every last detail of this thing. The loss of home…..makes sense. Loss of something I find comfort in…..yeah, that sounds about right. Surrounded by darkness threatening me and those I love in broad daylight–maybe a stretch but I think I’ve got it.
But my comforting myself with “it’s okay I’ll get another”…..it just troubles me.
I’ve been hoping and looking for a positive spin on this. Perhaps I’m trying to tell myself it will be okay? That I will make sure that it is?

I do find it interesting that what woke me up was not the paralyzing fear of what was coming. Instead it was the idea of having no address and realizing that I know the names of people and I love folks that have that situation to live with everyday.

I have no solid answers tonight. Just pondering what it all means. I’m running on a lot less sleep than usual tonight so please forgive my wandering thoughts. Tonight I am thankful for a much earlier bedtime and clearer thoughts tomorrow. I’m also very thankful for an address. Not so I can have stuff sent to it, but because it means I have a place to be, to belong, to laugh, to love, and to lay my head on a pillow (or couch) each night. Most of all, I’m thankful to be thankful. It’s good to be reminded to appreciate what I do have and that it’s not a given for everyone.

Love to all. Sweet dreams. Here’s hoping.

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