this same house keeps appearing in my dreams.
as a child, my dad would take my sister and i to Zilker Park a lot. and from those days, i built memories of saturated greens and endless paths — excitement that was opened wide with inspired skies and listless kite-tails, wavering soft. and the day could lead anywhere. and it did. always ahead. and i felt consistently compelled. like that last hour of work before your vacation, or watching the opening credits in a theater for a movie you’ve been looking forward to. a potential transcendence of anticipation.
and i never knew where my dad was taking us. but i always trusted the comfort he provided, especially with something unknown.
but this house in my dreams — i think it was a manifestation of those days. lush trees and sunlit walkways. never concrete or any cars around, but small paths of rocks and dirt, with the patterns of shadows on the ground — of oaks and their branches. like clouds of shadows floating you along.
and the house is worn, but steady. with chipped paint on the frames of the windows. and a wooden deck that had seen a lot of rain.
crunchy pockets of dead, orange leaves built up around the corner of a fence, collecting the wisdom of all the trees in small and unobtrusive piles.
the steady hum of the city in the distance, hugging the day.
even though, in my most recent dream, i became afraid and doubted. but the house — it remained as a source of certainty. so much so that it appeared in my mind during my dream, when this fear flooded the moment and i felt the suffocation of defeat.
but the thought of this house pushed me through. and i felt ready to achieve.
and i did exactly that. i solved it. all. and i wasn’t worried and i felt in control. like a mother of four. and in that moment, because of that house, i knew everything was going to be taken care of. and i wasn’t afraid (even though i knew people were looking for me in the dream which is always a reoccurring theme — being chased, a limit on my life — and i most certainly would have felt fear outside of the dream).
but everything was fine.
and this house remained still and sure.
because of a park, that my father made me aware of, in moments of green.