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Donna's Journal
Reoccurring-December 2004

     We stood in the middle bedroom. Why we visited in that room I can't tell you. I was sitting on the corner of the muted,  yellow colored dresser belonging to my child,  the only piece of furniture left in the house. The plaster had fallen off the walls and ceiling and was on the floor so that as we walked on it made a crunching sound. Our minds told us each room was like this.

      Suddenly an apparition stood before us. The woman wasn't like a ghost though. Her appearance was very real and alive.  She was dressed in the same white dress worn in one of the antique photographs I owned. It was long with a length going all the way to her feet. The style must have been around the early 1900's. What a pretty woman she was. Her petite size made her seem more like a girl rather than a woman but as she spoke I was aware she wasn't a child.

      “What has happened to my brother's house?”  She asked the question while standing there with her hands on her hips. “All his beautiful furniture, the bathroom appliances, everything gone. I want to know why?”

      “It's a long story.”  I wanted to explain but there wasn't an easy answer to her inquiry. My own manner seemed coarse and heavy compared to her light, joyful demeanor. Even in her anger there was a lovely way she had.

      “Well, someone is going to answer for this destruction. There was no reason to ruin something the family worked so many years to build. Why Dad will be furious when he sees this.”  With that she turned away and called, “Dad! Come in this house. Look! See what they have done to your son's place. I know he's out there,” she muttered. The tiny little woman was turning to stomp back over the fallen plaster.

       “That dream! I had that dream again. The old ranch house. Every time I have it the circumstances are different.”  The dreams were always having something to do with the old house. It has been a long time since I dreamed of that place like it was when we were children.

      “You know it was strange. Aunt called her father like he was there. That was so eerig. I woke up immediately. Some thing in my mind made me want to wake up. The thought of seeing Grandsir  was just more than I wanted in a dream.

      “Why? Why do I dream of the ranch house over and over?”  I had asked my husband the same question many times.

      “Probably because your friend called from over in that area. You were thinking about her and your mind just traveled on over to the old place where you grew up.”

       “I'm so glad you can explain it away for me so easily. To dream of my aunt, Dad's sister is very mysterious, too. Actually, I don't think I've ever had such a long conversation with her and certainly I did not know her when she was that youthful. I think dreams are sometimes just a way the mind deals with a problem. Of course, I hate seeing things as they are. Dad and Uncle are gone with their life's work blown to the wind. My mind must be calling up my aunt to help me deal with the outrage I myself feel.  It was rather a good feeling to have someone else in the family with the same feeling I have. Heaven knows, no one else seems to care. Even though it was just a dream it seemed so real.

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