It is really wierd (as many dreams are) that I am at home and suddenly I get lost wandering down beautiful plant-filled halls, lined with windows along one side and looking out to a wonderfully, naturally landscaped space almost as thick as a jungle (I live in the desert SW). These halls lead into cool "transistional" rooms in that they always seem to serve no purpose but to get me along to the next sections ... more and more long beautiful, natural feeling halls until I finally get to a door. When I open the door I find a HUGE studio ... as big as a gymnaisium, full of the finest equipment one could imagine. And everytime I enter that door I feel comforted as though it is a place I finally remember. The odd thing is that what comforts me in the dream is that I always (in my dreams) come to the conclusion that I was dreaming about this house and realize that ... Oh, I bought that house, as though it was one that I had looked at while house-hunting but had passed on buying, yet in my dreams I am dreaming that I must have bought it.
So the really bizarre thing about it is that I never looked at that house while house-hunting. It is a place I must wish I had the opportunity to live in, but I have never seen. I always feel euphoric when I wake up, as though I am at a very comfortable and familiar place, but then I realize I am not really there and I get a dejected but mellow drop. BTW, I am not uncomfortable with where I live in any conscious way.
Alas, I guess if I were somehow wealthy I might try to build a place like that, but until then I am perfectly content simply dreaming about.............................
another great pedal..............
