I think I've had this dream before, I was in a place - some sort of garden centre, but the end of the plot was filled with bungalows - they were rectangular, flat-roofed structures, that seemed to be made out of plywood - painted yellows and creams, with contrasting coloured window frames. More like over-sized Wendy houses or seaside chalets than real houses They were shuttered up and empty - and they were very 1920s-30s in appearance. Additionally they were jammed together with no gardens. There were gravelled alleys up the side, if you went up this they would end in another bungalow running paralell, blocking the view. Occasionally behind the bungalows through a sort of hoarding with glass, you could glimpse an old swimming pool, which was empty. For some reason I withdrew rapidly from the sight of this, it upset/frightened me.
The swimming pool was built on a grand scale, with brick arches around the inside of the pool - but I couldn't see the bottom from where I stood. I knew it had been built for the bungalow people, as an amenity - but I worried that now that it had been emptied it would decay. Further around I caught another glimpse of it, this time I could see some men at work on the ground nearby, and saw that the bottom of the pool, which was rounded at this point, contained a round, dark pool of muddy water. I walked away from the bungalows, and back towards the garden centre, where there was a small lawn between the paths, with two large tree ferns, one a conventional one, one with pink spotted leaves. A mother was saying proudly to her small son "That's the one we've got in our garden - a dicksonia grandiflora". I thought that was strange because ferns do not flower (or not in any obvious way).
This was such a depressing dream that I woke up. To me it seems obvious - houses usually represent oneself, but all these houses are "dead" - uninhabited, closed up, they are about the past - the sense of a once-thriving holiday community that's closed up and gone, abandoned. The swimming pool is presumably one's emotional life - it's drained, empty apart from a muddy mess - I found beauty and relief in seeing the grass and the ferns, but even there I was reminded of a sort of sterility. The woman with the child is perhaps me too, with a little boy, trying to teach him - "our garden" being the sense of the miniature paradise one tries to create in a family.
It is true - there is a part of me that feels very emotionally drained - and shutting myself up in some ways is how I deal with it - but this horrible sense of sterility - a lack of life. Perhaps the green space was reminding me that family life was worthwhile - a source of growth. At the moment, Finn's depression and so on make it hard for me to cope with anything. I have been concentrating on dealing with the creditors one by one, and raising money where I can.
The swimming pool was built on a grand scale, with brick arches around the inside of the pool - but I couldn't see the bottom from where I stood. I knew it had been built for the bungalow people, as an amenity - but I worried that now that it had been emptied it would decay. Further around I caught another glimpse of it, this time I could see some men at work on the ground nearby, and saw that the bottom of the pool, which was rounded at this point, contained a round, dark pool of muddy water. I walked away from the bungalows, and back towards the garden centre, where there was a small lawn between the paths, with two large tree ferns, one a conventional one, one with pink spotted leaves. A mother was saying proudly to her small son "That's the one we've got in our garden - a dicksonia grandiflora". I thought that was strange because ferns do not flower (or not in any obvious way).
This was such a depressing dream that I woke up. To me it seems obvious - houses usually represent oneself, but all these houses are "dead" - uninhabited, closed up, they are about the past - the sense of a once-thriving holiday community that's closed up and gone, abandoned. The swimming pool is presumably one's emotional life - it's drained, empty apart from a muddy mess - I found beauty and relief in seeing the grass and the ferns, but even there I was reminded of a sort of sterility. The woman with the child is perhaps me too, with a little boy, trying to teach him - "our garden" being the sense of the miniature paradise one tries to create in a family.
It is true - there is a part of me that feels very emotionally drained - and shutting myself up in some ways is how I deal with it - but this horrible sense of sterility - a lack of life. Perhaps the green space was reminding me that family life was worthwhile - a source of growth. At the moment, Finn's depression and so on make it hard for me to cope with anything. I have been concentrating on dealing with the creditors one by one, and raising money where I can.
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