Tag Archives: Hollidays

Home and the Holidays

The house I grew up in was tucked in a little suburban neighborhood on a cul-de-sac. The street was called Fig Leaf Court. I remember it being a tan color. But I remember when we painted it yellow with forest green trimmings. I was born in that house; I remember all my fondest childhood memories being in that house and in that neighborhood, and I remember the the placement of every single room, the kitchen, and living room like it was yesterday. The thing I recall the most is this black and white couch that wrapped around the living room, and the little gap between the couch and the wall in the corner that we would always hide in. I don’t know why I remember that particular detail. My family moved away from that house when I was 11 years old.

I’m 22 now, and my family has been living in their present house for about 11 years.

Up until this very day, I still continue to have dreams that occur in that house. No matter how old I am in the dream, no matter who is in the dream, no matter what is occurring in the dream, I always seem to have dreams that are set in that house. If I have a dream that occurs in my room, it will almost always be the very first room I grew up in.

I don’t know why.

It’s not that I don’t love the house my family lives in now. I spent a majority of my life here. But there’s something about my old house–how it embodies my childhood, the memories of growing up, nostalgia–that I can’t seem to forget about it. It’s always there in my head. It’s a reoccurring dream. It’s my fortress.

About a year and a half ago, I moved away from home. I moved to a house in the east bay, with hopes and excitement of never looking back. It wasn’t until the week that I moved out of that house that I began to have dreams about the house I was living in. I live in a new place now, and I don’t seem to dream about it at all.

Now, I’m living in my humble abode in Temescal/Oakland. I’ve been here for 4 months. Though I still wake up sometimes, forgetting where I am, I feel at home. My oldest house still reappears in my sleep, but I’ve already had several dreams about this place.

Who knows how long I’ll be here? All I know is that I’ve never been more excited to make memories here.


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