Yesterday morning I had one of those dreams in which you rediscover a forgotten room in your dwelling. In this case, I actually rediscovered one forgotten, unused room, and discovered for the first time an outdoor space as well. The room was a kitchen– long and glossy white. It had been set up after the fashion of a diner with a counter, and opposite that was a long wall of windows with a few small booths along it. It was out the windows that I spied the yard, filled with varying levels of decks and picnic tables, and realized that our apartment had a door leading to it as well.
I’ve had recurring variations on this particular theme for years– for as long as I’ve lived in Brooklyn, I think. Ben said he’s had them as well. It must have to do with all of us New Yorkers living in rather smaller spaces than are considered normal. I do love these dreams, though– they feel like opposites of anxiety dreams (such as teeth loose, or falling out), despite the inevitable disappointment upon waking: realizing you’re stuck with exactly as many rooms you had when you fell asleep the night before.