Come sail away .... but, to where?

Sometimes dreams have familiar elements; at other times, dreams are inexplicable. Sometimes the two blend together -- the known and the unexplainable -- and so it seems to me were the contents of a dream I had my first night in the lake house. Interpretations, thoughts, opinions, comments welcome ....

A return to the realm of dreamland

I did have what I would define as an unusual or strange dream my first night in this house. Here it is, or, at least, that which I can remember of it.

I was sleeping in this house and gradually waking up. It was after sunrise. I eventually got up and out of bed and looked out the window. The house now, in my dream, was situated about sixty or seventy yards from a precipice, and beyond it was a wide open, endless expanse of water.

I had just finished dressing when a woman's voice called out asking me if I wanted eggs for breakfast and, if so, how I wanted them. I answered, and as I did so, Harry Reid walked into my bedroom. Yes, I mean Harry Reid, a Democrat, a U.S. Senator from Nevada and the Senate Majority Leader. He obviously knew me, started chatting with me and sat down on a chair.

Now, I view Sen. Reid as the devil personified. He looks like a kindly, gentle, elderly grandfather. I view him as hateful, ruthless, willing to sell his soul to Satan and genuinely an evil man. So, this man now is sitting in my room talking and we are getting along just fine and dandy. Somewhere along the line, I begin to like him and wonder if I have been wrong about him.

Before I have reached a decision, the Senator gets up, says, "Let's go down for breakfast," and walks out. I follow him.

Downstairs, the woman preparing breakfast is an old friend of mine who has been dead for more than a decade. It is a large, old-fashioned room, with a long table and benches, and two cook stoves which have all manner of food being prepared in pots and pans. The walls of the kitchen are made from logs. It is a room from another house about which I have had several dreams.

The woman tells us that breakfast will be ready in ten minutes. I respond that I want to go outside and walk around for a while, and the Senator sits down with a cup of coffee and picks up the morning newspaper.

Outside, it is clear and breezy. A man, a stranger, sees me, walks toward me and begins talking to me. He follows me as I walk toward the edge of the precipice. It is a long, long way down -- probably about one hundred fifty feet. Heavy waves are coming in on a narrow strip of sandy beach.

All I can see in the distance is endless water, with a lone, open ship in view. It seems to be sailing, although the sail is tattered and dangling in a light breeze. One man is standing midships in it, looking toward shore, looking at me, it seems. He waves to me and, after hesitating, I return the salute.

As I am peering over the edge of the precipice, the stranger standing near to me is telling me to be careful because portions of the cliff have a tendency to break free and to fall crashing to the sandy beach below. With that, I lie down on the grass-covered ledge and peer over and beyond the edge, my chin resting on my hands, watching the ship move further and further away from me.

I hear the woman call from the house that breakfast is ready. I get up, and follow the stranger into the house. I ask where I am to sit. The dead woman, now alive, replies, "Anywhere, it is your house." On the table are pancakes and syrup, eggs, bacon, fried and hash brown potatoes, toast, coffee and orange juice.

Other people begin coming into the room, but I do not see their faces. I only hear their voices. I am looking at my plate, seeing two eggs, then reaching out as the food is passed among us.

"If it is my house, who are all these people and why are they here?" I am wondering to myself as I push potatoes onto my plate.

Then, I awake, in real life in the real world, and the dream is over. This is the dream I had the night of August 31, 2010, my first night in this house -- the lake house.