Many Attics
I dreamt of a Victorian mansion with many attics. The home sat within a walled estate. On its grounds were sweet-flowing streams, branching from a point of land on a hill. We were going to buy the place and build a Japanese tea house on the angle of land between the streams. We explored the mansion first.
In it’s attics were all manner of items from my deep childhood. Artifacts only remembered on sight and touch. The house was full to the brim of these soft-forgotten things.
A stack of three cowboy hats with smiley faces painted on them.
A black and white photograph.
An old time radio, still playing music.
Nearly endless…
My eyes are tired and watery today.