whenever i dream the house(s) are always the same a wonderfully scrapbook-y feel to it, with all my childhood homes stitched together. delicate and diffrent parts of them fading from my own brain betraying me and purposely blocking things out. the big staircase and foyer of the california home next to my grandmothers house with the tall tall lemon tree and the back garden filled with fruits and veggies, the terracotta potters brought to life with the vibrant reds of sweet summer strawberries contrasting the cool green of the leafs. the small little shop we would make own own mosaiacs displayed not only on the yard but around the house, the way light reflects off of the colored glass. reds blues oranges and yellows would adorn the house and the yard so full of life and joy. the stained glass windows in parts of the home would only add to the storybook feel, so warm and welcoming its no wonder these aspects haunt me both awake and asleep. its a shame that eventually warm hues of colors will fade. california homes that have lacked my presence for a long time forever holding my child like wonder and nastolgia. a side i will never get back.
sunny days tile shopping and making fresh squeezed lemonade are long gone, replaced with endless heat dazed and hazy minds and a chicken wallpaper i only ever see in my dreams next to stained glass and mosaics, hasty sitching of my dream land being the only things to keep all these memories in one place, even if its cruel and twisted bringing only pain and longing for a past i will never get back as the all embrassing california sun and sand is long gone as i will never be peter pan, i will never get my own neverland i have to grow up. the closest thing i can find solace in is the ever changing patchwork landscape of my dreams. if it wasnt for that, a paradise long but not forgotten i wouldnt be here, even if its clouded with a aching pain in my chest some things will always stay.
even if its just in my dreams
