The House of DreamsText & Images © McDonnell 1998-2003
Fall and spring. Canadian and Snow Geese. Their V formations mark the end of the seasons. Year after year, they fly back and forth on their own schedule. Nature's time marches to its own drum. Crops are sown, ripen and are harvested in their season. Humans follow their own rules. How much money do you make, how much do you love others or yourself? Do you give or do you take? Do you love or do you hate? The house is a place where man and nature meet. The house was built by men, a structure made from natural elements, a wooden vessel to contain people and their dreams. It sails through time, collecting pasengers along the way, death and life pass through it. Love too.
Before the house was built, the Oak was there. Nearly 300 years old. It has seen it all. Many lifetimes have passed it, thousand of acorns have fallen, sprouted and grown by the grizzled oak. Virile, tall, strong even in old age, the oak inspires awe in all, unless they are fools. Fire, ice storms, and men have tried to destroy it to no avail. The tree endures. A giant dream catcher spreading its arms to the wind.
There are days you want to finish the dream surrounded by those you love. You see their thoughts. Even the best actors, the dissimulators, can not hide. You see every motion, every emotion, every gesture like the ripples of water bugs dancing on water. Eyes of blue, eyes of black, try to hide thoughts but divulge their inner most secrets. Only you can read their hearts; see their love for you. The house has seen it all, bright love, dark hate, even green jealousy; every color of human emotion. It takes back what it is given. Some stay; some go. All will be touched in some way by the house. They will dream of the house.
Someone sleeps on a sofa, the sun softly grazing hair and skin, divorced from reality. Someone sings alone, evoking past glories, hopes and stories of love. People play a game on the grass with rackets, keeping a ball in the air, so much joy in their movements. Another takes a machine to ice and wood, gnawing away at destruction. Pain has no audience. Dreaming of a smile for his efforts. The smile is a dream. Everything is a dream, just a dream. "To sleep, perhaps to dream..."
A dream house, surrounded by trees and water...when dreams are gone, the house will still be there.
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