.comment-link {margin-left:.6em;}

Fermius Firefly

A Dream Log, whenever I remember the dreams I've had.

My Photo
Location: San Marcos, United States

Fermius is a pen name drawn from a series of short fiction I wrote when I published the small press magazine Stellanova (on paper.) I play RPG games to escape from my daily grind as a technology wage slave for the state of California. I eat out a lot in order to do my part in supporting our increasingly service level economy. I am butler to 2 feline masters. If you ask them they will tell you I'm not very good at it, late with dinner, don't have enough hands with brushes in them, and sometimes I even lock them out of their office.

Friday, February 27, 2009

Childhood Home, Native Reality

              Housing market is horrible, so I went back to Virginia to the two story house my parents had built when I was six years old. The house was empty, having been abandoned by its previous owner. I looked around, enjoyed the fact that the floor tiles were still the same in my old bedroom, marveled at how small the windows and staircase looked now, and how narrow the bedroom was. I went out into the front yard and looked at the over thirty year old dogwoods in the front yard.
              “My grandfather planted those in the spring of the year before we left. I'm surprised they haven't destroyed the driveway.”
              “The driveway was replaced a few years ago, it floats above the roots now,” the realtor explained. “There is a problem with this house, though, it has been in a fire.”
              “I know about that, it happened a year or two after we moved out.”
              “No, more recently than that. A neighbor here doesn't like the house and wants it torn down.”
              “Why is that?”
              “It blocks his view of the the forest.”
              I looked around. Where there was once a forest at the end of the block of the cross street, the road now continued into more housing.
              “We need to go talk to the neighbor, I don't think there's a forest to be seen.”
              So, I went and talked to the neighbor about the long missing forest. The neighbor had lived in the house behind us for several years, and hadn't actually been out of the house in all that time. Turns out they had lived in the house as children, right about the time we lived there. The person was still upset that the trees had been cut down to build our house.
              “I see. You realize that was over forty years ago?”
              They didn't seem to believe me.
              I went back to my old house and took a deeper look at it. There was an unfinished solar tube installation in the attic room. I found the round glass ball like lens and mounted it in the open tube at the top of the roof. The attic was much lighter for it. I'd never been in the attic when we lived there, and didn't know that there was so much space. There was even a set of small paned windows that looked out over the pink and white dogwood trees.
              The roof joists and floor beams were in terrible shape, however, rotted almost to a paper like consistency. It was only a matter of time before the whole place collapsed, and a short time rather than a long time, I thought.
              I made my way downstairs to the kitchen. The realtor was attempting to salvage the refrigerator, which was a large over under model finished in forest green shag carpeting. It had two large googly eyes (about three inches across) glued to the front of the top door. The black plastic eyeballs rolled under their clear plastic frame as the fridge tipped left and right.
              “Let's at least get this outside before the explosion takes the place out.”
              “What explosion?” I asked.
              “You just set the demolition collector above the horn. When it's fully charged a blast of flame will fill up the kitchen here and blow through the front, causing the whole place to come down.”
              “What?” I ran upstairs, winded by the time I climbed into the attic. Sure enough, there was a large funnel like horn under the solar tube, and the glass lens was growing brighter by the moment.
              “Get out of there before it goes off!” I heard a shout from below.
              “I don't think we have to demolish the whole thing!”
              “Too late now. Your neighbor is paying for it!”
              “My neighbor?”
              “Yes, you set the collector in place, so now it's your property.”
              I couldn't see the logic in that and was rushing to get out of the house.
              As I ran out the front door there was a loud “Whoosh!” from above me and I felt a blast of heat push me gently out onto the front lawn.
              The whole house collapsed in on itself behind me. I helped the realtor wrestle the green shag refrigerator to the end of the driveway.
              She looked at my little Honda Insight. “I don't think this will fit.”
              “I wasn't planning on buying a fridge.”
              “Oh, it comes with the house, no charge.”
              I looked at the burning pile of rubble that had been my childhood home. I was hoping it wouldn't catch the trees on fire.
              “Well, your neighbor is paying for the new house, so you are in luck.”
              “How so?”
              “The lot alone is only worth about thirty k more than your down payment. Less if you want to just buy it outright.”
              I did a quick calculation and I could easily afford it. “Okay, but where am I going to live in the mean time?”
              “You can stay at my house.”
              That caught me completely by surprise. I could tell, though, that she was far more interested in the refrigerator than myself. I could live with that. I figured I could give her the fridge as a going away present when my house was completed.

              I had another dream this morning, but all I recall is three highly decorated staves. Feathers, beads, silk and other rich fabric wrapped poles in a single umbrella stand. I also remember talking to a white haired native American fellow, but the only thing I remember saying is “This is a highly dubious reality.”

Labels: , ,


Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home