"Last night I dreamt I went to Manderley again. It seemed to me I stood by the iron gate leading to the drive, and for a while I could not enter, for the way was barred to me. There was a padlock and a chain upon the gate." from Rebecca by Daphne du Maurier.
And last night, I had that dream again. I was in my old childhood house.
I was looking out of a new window that was never a window in my old house. The street in the dream did not look like the street in this picture which is the street in Autumn.
On that street in my dream the view had changed to a soft pink and blue. As twilight descended, snow was falling. As I peered south, soon the road was covered in a white blanket that seemed oddly soothing and comforting. This was not a blurred vision, it was a sharp image with crystal clarity. I could even look up and see, through the falling snow, some stars appearing which for so long had not even been visible to me.
Everything that came before no longer mattered; I was so happy to be someplace else, to be home where I seemed to belong. I wanted to remain within that picture.
And high above there was a plane taking passengers home too. When I awakened I wondered if that was what death is: a place where you go that seems so real and you just stay there. I gasped because it all seemed so easy.
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