Pau House

The following never happened. Except that it did -- in the dreamtime, which is part of our process, no? Why not? Remembered dreams are actual memories. They just happened only to the dreamer. Someday, you may recall a dream more vividly than events of shared history. Really! Such is life.

So there we were, house-hunting with Pau. There was a group of us, but he was the only recognizable other. The house we entered seemed normal at first, and lovely, despite the front door opening into a bedroom. Then we looked up: The high, exposed rafters were covered with cobwebs, and Pau -- who was so tall, his head kept brushing into webs -- hated spiders. Who shows such a neglected home for sale? An expensive one too (which might be why he was there, after all.) It'll clean up fine, we tried to assure him. Then stumbled into the kitchen (one of the kitchens) where the owners were in the process of removing the countertops, to keep for themselves. Well! This wasn't promising.

Feeling as disgruntled as Pau, about to leave, I caught a brilliant glimpse of outside through a window. Shoreline, trees, flowers -- I had to investigate, and wandered out into a wonderland. Exotic birds everywhere, in a sort of aviary, replete with expansive stone pools and lush greenery. The owner followed, explaining he was a fly fisherman and kept the little colorful birds for their feathers. It was a lot of work, he wanted out of it, had no intention of taking that hungry bunch with him. Including the dogs, who were gadding about, playing in the many pools. What would happen to them all? I cried and pleaded, wanting Pau to buy the place and save the animals.

We all walked into another kitchen -- this one intact and beautifully appointed. White marble countertops, loaded with enticing foods, awaited. We all wanted that food. Which seemed to hinge upon buying the house. Would we?