When I was young, the downstairs basement room thing was my "playroom." It had this fantastic windowseat in it, which looked outside at ground level. My friends and I used to spend hours and hours in there and often slept in there - even though it was uncomfortable, the novelty factor made it worth it. For a while anyway. It used to be full of pillows and blankets and even had curtains but since I am not quite feeling energetic enough to find a photo of it in that state, here it is as it is now - bare and empty, except for a swiss ball.
Haha, I just noticed Big Bird is in the picture. He rulesSo anyway. One day when I was a kid (not a clue how old. Could have been 8, could have been 14... I really can't remember) I awoke absolutely certain that my windowseat contained an extra room off to the side. This extra room was only JUST big enough for me to fit in, curled up. And it had a sheepskin in it. And then, on the other side of this wee hole, there was another hole in the wall, which had a model boat in it behind a pane of glass.
I somehow had some clue that the existence of this extra room might have just been a dream, but I was probably about 70% convinced that it was real. I had memories of being in there on several different occasions, but somehow I also just found the whole concept unrealistic. Well of course, I bounced out of bed and down the stairs, 70% expecting to find a wee hole in which I could sit and read my book. It wasn't there. I was bitterly disappointed.
NOW. Here I am, however many years later, back in my parents' house, in the same bed. Somewhere near my hometown, there is a mountain that I walk up every now and then. Well, I've probably done it about 5 times in my life, and not since about a year ago. What I usually do when I get to the top is get naked on the helipad and see how long I can stay that way without freaking out that someone else will arrive and see me sprawled about indecently on this slab of concrete. (I think this whole playing games with yourself thing comes of being an only child). Anyway - today, I woke up utterly convinced that at the top of this mountain there was a hut which I sometimes slept in. There was also a river crossing involved in getting to the hut (there are no rivers up there...) but the oddest thing was that the hut contained a room identical to the one which had magically sprung off my window seat all those years ago. And the prospect of it was SO appealing, just as it had been the last time. I almost rushed off to scale the mountain, but then I stopped and THOUGHT and remembered my dream of many years ago and eventually remembered that at the top of the mountain there is NOT a hut, just a helipad. And even though I KNOW that I have never climbed the mountain and slept in a hut with a little cubby room in the wall, I feel like I have several memories of having done so. I feel like I have gone up with the intent of sleeping there sometimes, and I feel like sometimes I have done it spontaneously and texted my mother to tell her I won't be home that night. I feel like sometimes I have done it alone, and sometimes I have done it with friends. But I know I never have. It is the oddest feeling.
