Dearest Rachel –
Another early morning, another thing to write you about before I go back to sleep and forget all about it. Don’t know how far I’ll get before that happens, but I might as well try and see where this goes. Anyway, this is about a dream, which have been fewer and farther between this past month than most (and you’ll recall why from my letter last week – basically, it’s another one of the effects of both the changes in time zones and not getting the chance to wake up organically for a while). So brace yourself for a little bit of nonsense as it goes along.
I won’t say that there was a storyline to it, as much as they were various characters – including the house, which is something you might be able to relate to. Apparently, I’d gotten a new place, and moved out so that Daniel could have his own space in the house he grew up in. There’s not that much to describe about it on first glance; there were aspects of both our house and the folks’ house to it. It would blend in within any average well-to-do suburb. The backyard might have been considered… interestingly decorated, however, and this is where the story starts to pick up.
I began to get regular visitors to the house. Female visitors. Quite a few of them, actually. Not so much on my own invitation – to say I hadn’t asked them over would be an understatement. No, these ladies were actually interested in the place, although not so much as owners (after all, you’d think they would’ve just bought the place themselves when it went on the market, if they were) as patrons – or perhaps performers?
You see, in a previous incarnation, the house had evidently been the site of an underground dance club and bar. Not necessarily literally –this would explain the decorated backyard, on further consideration (although given that this is Chicago, what else would they do in the winter months?) And these girls were interested in restoring the place to its former glory, either to perform there, or bring back certain bands (and/or DJs; it wasn’t entirely clear) to do so.
But in order to do that, they had to work with me about it, since, obviously, it was my house now. But they seemed perfectly willing to do so. One of them in particular was, shall we say, quite affectionate, to the point where I might debate about whether I considered myself uncomfortable about it. On the one hand, I can’t deny that I enjoyed every bit of her attentions, and would never have considered pushing her away if I thought they were genuine. And that’s bearing in mind that she was decidedly not a type that I would have considered to be ‘a good match’ for myself. Let’s just say that we heralded from literally opposite ethnicities, and leave it at that; I think you can put things together from there. My point is, she could made me consider that to not be such a hindrance in a relationship.
On the other hand – and you knew this was coming – there was the obvious fact that there was an ulterior motive behind her (and her girlfriends’ – affections. They weren’t really there for me, they were there to all but take over the house, and make something of it that they remembered fondly, and thought it could become what it once was again.
And you know what? I could’ve been cool with that. I mean, it’s not as if marriages and relationships haven’t been based on being more about business than actual affection – indeed, that was pretty much the norm back in medieval Europe, for instance. It was how land and inheritances were consolidated, and passed down from generation to generation, like a family business. But in this modern, semi-urban context, it seemed a little out of place. Still, if these girls – and the one in particular – had so much love for the place, that had to count for something. In effect, she was transferring some of that love over to me for the sake of the place. And even as I knew her affection for me wasn’t entirely for me, it was a reasonable enough facsimile for me to seriously consider going along with it.
So, why didn’t I? Well, I don’t think I can say that I didn’t, to be honest. in the light of day, (not like there’s any of that going on right now), there are zoning issues and other stuff like that that would get in the way of making this could be a legitimate thing. I honestly don’t know how they had this thing going on in the past without some neighbors complaining about it. If they did, well, bully for them, but I couldn’t see how it would work. But I think the real thing that caused me to turn it down was just the fact that I woke up.
It was a lot to think about, even if it was completely unrealistic. They all were pretty cute – way out of my league, in fact. And if the place had existed (and thrived) before, maybe their idea of bringing it back had merit. Ironically, you might’ve been keener about the idea than I would be, given your social butterfly tendencies; although perhaps hip-hop isn’t your taste in music any more than it is mine. But it’s certainly not something I would’ve ever considered were you still around; that’s the real irony in these storylines my unconscious mind keeps coming up with for me to chew on.
Anyway, I’m going to try to get some more sleep, if I can. Keep an eye on me, and wish me luck; I’m going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 