The House

This is a rather disturbing dream and like other such dreams, one I cannot stop thinking about until I write about it...

THE HOUSE

I have always been old fashioned – I love old things, and old homes, surrounded by trees and hills…

I married a man who loved new things – he loved building and gardening, creating and selling modern homes – or buying old ones, renovating and selling them.

By the time we met, or actually decided to live together, he was working on his latest house, which I loved and was saddened at the thought of selling a home that I helped him renovate – I was reluctant to sell a home that had so much of ‘me’ in it – over the first few months, I suggested he get rid of the ugly bookcase in foyer, with matching divider, and the wall between the lounge and dining room – I suggested sliding doors, but even better, he installed bifold window doors, that opened up to an alfresco area that he made, and I purchased the corner lounge couch, buffet bar and matching TV stand and coffee table and dining table and chairs, I also bought the home theatre TV, alfresco firepit, 2 lounging chairs beside the firepit, and wine barrel table with stools – my choice of furnishings fitted and suited perfectly with the high beamed ceilings completed with stud posts that held the ceiling up, and matching alfresco roof – I created a tropical garden on the alfresco side of the house complete with solar flares and suggested he get some hanging lights for the alfresco as well. I also bought our shelves, lamps in lounge and guest room, bedside tables in the guest room, outdoor bar/server trolley, and party size ice container, our dishes, cutlery, and various drinking glasses, and the linen and towels.

He painted the inside of the house, and had the outside walls rendered, made the brick garden wall higher and rendered that himself, bought and painted red a new double front door, bought the alfresco dining table and chairs, our king-size bed complete with bedside tables and lamps, and queen-size bed for the guest room, he bought a wine fridge and beer fridge which went on either side of the dining buffet bar, bought our office furniture (we use two of the bedrooms as offices) and our computer system including a surveillance camera for the front of the house, and created the front rose garden, put in the slate floor, and the vertical blinds, put in recessed lighting, and painted the roof. He also bought the barbecue, cook-top, oven, microwave and coffee machine and heating.

We both contributed towards the pots and pans, utensils, and bowels. We both grow vegetables and herbs at the back of the house.

I bought our Moodle dog, and he bought our Cavoodle.

But I didn’t have to despair over his usual selling of the place. He loves it as much as I do. He also feels that this house is ‘us’. We have both put so much of our individual selves into it. We cleverly combined his modern and my old-fashioned décor. And, it’s in the hills, with plenty of trees, that I love. And, we have made good friends with our neighbors.

But, it is the actual neighborhood that is the problem. We have prowlers that wander our yard and even inside the house until we fenced off the side gates which were regularly broken, none the less, until we made stronger barricades. Still, people watch us over the barricades, and have tried to crash through those as well. We have had so many things stolen or broken, and every vehicle we have had while living here has been broken into several times, and damaged. Hence, the installed CCTV. We have a freight train that has such a high-pitched scream as it passes that often makes me temporarily deaf. Up to about twenty minutes at first, now, it can last a few hours. And lately, even painful. And there are several of those trains on a daily, and nightly schedule. Not to mention the daily sirens, usually morning nine-ten-ish, noon and afternoon three-four-ish, we used to think that everyone in our neighbourhood was going to end up in the hospital, I lived and worked in the city before moving into his house and never heard so many sirens on a daily basis as this neighbourhood; until we realized that there were none on public holidays, so we have no idea why the people in this neighbourhood need emergency help at the same daily routine times, and never emergency help on holidays, at all. A mystery. We also have helicopters at night, eleven-ish, that don’t seem to be going anywhere, just flying round and round above our rooves for at least an hour, as if they do not realize that there are people in the houses below them trying to sleep at that time. So it was with despair that we realized that we had to sell up and move, regardless of all the love and care and compromises that we have both invested into the place.

We thought that getting out of the city, far from prowlers, thieves, property destroyers and noise, would be our safest plan, not having to pay to regularly fix vehicles or other repairs, the best option, for us.

So, my husband decided to set out and build our final home miles away from anywhere, with less trees so we could see anyone approaching from all sides. I, had lost enthusiasm for creating yet another home and no longer cared about old fashioned homes among hills and trees. And, he was happy to build a more modern place, complete with a large spacious uncovered alfresco area, where we would spend most of our time sitting around a fire pit under the stars, enjoying a wine, and……….silence……….sweet silence, at last – no trains, no helicopters, no sirens, not even the sound of traffic…so peaceful…

My husband decided that the last house he’d build would be modern. Not the sort of thing that I like. But, as already mentioned, I lost interest in creating a home. I was happy to have peace and silence under the stars, the house was just a shelter for me, when required. It was square. It was concrete and glass. Boring. Even the outdoors sitting area around the fire pit was concrete, even the fire pit was concrete – the seating around the pit was concrete – still, I loved sitting there on several large soft cushions and that’s where I spent most of my time.

Once the house was completed, he showed me around, it was very high tech, at the wave of hands on a control panel, walls, and glass, would move – even the outside seating would turn and flatten, so would the large concrete paving blocks.

Way out in the middle of nowhere, with no-one knowing where we were, we did not bother building fencing - the high rendered walls of our previous residence had not kept intruders out – our dogs were free to roam the countryside, and come home when they wanted to, but they never went far – we were living in our very own quiet little piece of the world…

But – one day, when enjoying some sparkling shiraz around our fire, dogs at our feet, the only sounds were the birdlife, which we loved, compared to the freight train screeches, sirens and helicopters of our previous home, we heard a car – racing down our track which we carefully created to not look like a road, we didn’t even have a mailbox, we picked up any mail, which was not much in these days of computers mobiles and tablets, at the post office of the closest town when we went weekly for a few supplies – driving too fast for a small trail, we could hear loud hysterical laughter among the screeching and swerving of tires – we grabbed our dogs and ran inside – I ran to grab a gun (a part of my father’s old collection), but my husband stood in front of the window and control panel calmly and said I won’t need that…

The approaching car was going so fast, that it looked as though it was going to speed right through our outside firepit seating area and into the house – with a wave of my husband’s hand though, two of the first concrete panels suddenly raised upright, and the speeding car crashed into it – that didn’t stop its inhabitants though, their crazy laughing stopped, and it was angry men who came out cursing us and swinging baseball bats and firing guns – I watched amazed as my husband did not flinch, did not move away from the window, which proved to be bullet proof, and with another wave of his hand, the next two concrete panels slid aside, two of the running men fell underneath, and the panels closed again. One of the men knelt to examine the panel, try to shift it, when at another wave of my husband’s hand, one of the concrete seats went over him, and also slid into the ground. The last man, backed from the scene incredulously, when with another wave of my husband’s hand, the firepit suddenly knocked into him in such a way that he lost his balance and fell into it, after which, among the guy’s screaming, turned upside down, its contents spilling below, then righted itself, and moved back into position.

Just as I was wondering what to do with the thug’s car, my husband waved his hand and the concrete panels that were now a wall, leaned back into place, squashing the car underground as well.

I was the first out there, examining the area. It looked exactly like it was before the troublemakers screeched onto our property. Even the two wine glasses were still sitting on the concrete table out there. I went to refill the firepit and lit another fire, while my husband grabbed a rake and got rid of the skid marks. Our driveway once again, no longer looked like a real road. The thugs must have thought that they were going to speed around some country turf, not realizing that there was a very modern house there and when they did, decided to destroy the place, or at least do as much damage as they could…

We sat around the fire, the dogs sniffing around the concrete panels.

I sighed. “I now love our modern high-tech concrete and glass house in the quiet desert…”

My husband smiled. “When building this, our last home, I was determined we would never have our things damaged or stolen, ever again…”

“And us and our dogs kept safe also, they had guns…”

The sky glowed red as the sun started setting.

I picked up my wine and passed his to him, when I noticed the first star twinkle above us, and I smiled. “Cheers!”