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So I have this attic...except where I don't.

You see, this attic isn't a real attic, it's something that's been showing up in my dreams for ages now. Not every dream (obviously), but enough that I can reconize it on sight (and on memory). It's nothing much, just a small space above the 'garage', accessed by a pull down ladder and then wiggling through a hole...except apparently, I can no longer wiggle into it, according to last night's dream.

And I really shouldn't say it's small, as it's large enough to hold quite a bit of stuff...maybe it's small on the outside and that's why I think that.

anyway, it's just...odd, that it keeps appearing. It's not like it contains great treasures, in fact, it mostly contains glassware. If you've ever been to a flea market or a second hand store...or even a yard sale, you know there's often tables of glassware, well, that's what this attic looks like. Stacks of plates, wine glasses, glass bottles...basically, a traditonal flea market.

Last night I drempt we were moving to Ohio (why Ohio? I blame my Aunt and Jo, seriously, it's like they mugged my brain and made that the best place to move). Anyway, we were moving and packing up to leave and suddenly I remembered this attic. I climbed up there, and got inside, and started packing the objects in there...all those glasses.

Which some how migrated from the glasses that fill the attic, to porcilin dolls and fake christmas trees (with decorations)...which actually exist in our garage (our attic is destroyed in that section of the house in reality), to other things, I can't quite recall but that I know we actually own.

I don't even know why I'm focusing so much on such a dream but that attic just...stays with me. I can't get rid of it even now, hours after I've woken up. A part of me wants to return to that attic filled with glasses, it's always...sad, to leave it.

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Originally published at Memoirs of a Nobody. You can comment here or there.

So I have this attic…except where I don’t.

You see, this attic isn’t a real attic, it’s something that’s been showing up in my dreams for ages now. Not every dream (obviously), but enough that I can reconize it on sight (and on memory). It’s nothing much, just a small space above the ‘garage’, accessed by a pull down ladder and then wiggling through a hole…except apparently, I can no longer wiggle into it, according to last night’s dream.

And I really shouldn’t say it’s small, as it’s large enough to hold quite a bit of stuff…maybe it’s small on the outside and that’s why I think that.

anyway, it’s just…odd, that it keeps appearing. It’s not like it contains great treasures, in fact, it mostly contains glassware. If you’ve ever been to a flea market or a second hand store…or even a yard sale, you know there’s often tables of glassware, well, that’s what this attic looks like. Stacks of plates, wine glasses, glass bottles…basically, a traditonal flea market.

Last night I drempt we were moving to Ohio (why Ohio? I blame my Aunt and Jo, seriously, it’s like they mugged my brain and made that the best place to move). Anyway, we were moving and packing up to leave and suddenly I remembered this attic. I climbed up there, and got inside, and started packing the objects in there…all those glasses.

Which some how migrated from the glasses that fill the attic, to porcilin dolls and fake christmas trees (with decorations)…which actually exist in our garage (our attic is destroyed in that section of the house in reality), to other things, I can’t quite recall but that I know we actually own.

I don’t even know why I’m focusing so much on such a dream but that attic just…stays with me. I can’t get rid of it even now, hours after I’ve woken up. A part of me wants to return to that attic filled with glasses, it’s always…sad, to leave it.