Category: Denise

(Monday, November 24, 2025)

The dream takes place in a limitless property I own that I share with many. My community. It feels like a new endeavor, as I wander from room to room, viewing design and furniture I have never seen before. It is a lovely space.

I pass through one room that surprises me with a pretty, comfortable place to sleep in at the far corner. Near the transition area to another room I see another bed. This one is tiny.

I walk back into the first room I inspected and meet the large, forty-ish woman who is my property manager. A small, thin, male coworker stands next to her. She has managerial vibes, and when I ask her a simple question, she goes on and on and on, not listening to me. She looks at her friend, not to me. What I want to do is simplify the beautiful environment. It is too crowded with furniture. Packed. Finally, I interrupt and tell her I can do this, I can remove and donate pieces myself.

Day notes:

Last week Cullan was finally able to move all of his belongings from Hillary’s house into my basement. The dungeon is packed.

My friend Denisea recently added folk-art wallpaper (third-eyes, flowers and ravens) to my front entryway. Her friend Lindsey helped. It has felt like a simple enhancement. A new space.

(Wednesday, November 19, 2025) new moon Scorpio

I am wandering around in a large, one-story house owned by the family of a new partner. I seem to be in my thirties. I see a mind-image of my same-age lover. He is relatively tall and thin, wearing glasses. He is smart and resourceful and reminds me a little bit of Karl, a writer I worked with decades ago who had a years-long crush on me (he lives at 39th and Garfield, a few houses away from my artist/writer friend Bean). This dream man has every resource needed to care for me, in particular because his family is financially sound. He is attentive and compassionate. In the dream, though, he is missing. He is in a hospital, which fills me with grief.

Members of his relations come and go in the dream, although we don’t interact very often. His father is his twin, the same age and with similar features. I spend a lot of time in a bedroom that is my partner’s. At one point I see a body lying on the left side of the queen-size bed, turned toward the edge, covered in blankets. Perhaps this human is dead, perhaps they are unconscious. I don’t recognize them.

Day notes:

Chris was loving and gentle at the hospital and for the first few days he came home. Now he is irritated. It could be his new meds. I don’t know. He feels trapped, as he is not allowed to drive for three months because of his seizure. The body in this dream feels like Chris, but I do not see the face, as it is covered up. Turned away from me.

One emotion in the dream is huge relief that my financial needs are taken care of by my partner’s family. Which does not feel like reality at this moment as I have been considering working a part-time job. I applied (for a second time) for a small remote job my writer-friend Amy does at Stitch Fix. Maybe I will hear from them, probably I won’t.

(Wednesday, November 5, 2025)

The dream begins in my childhood bedroom, painted hot pink as it was back in hippie-time. But I am my current age. To entertain a few children in the room, I climb up a tall, white steel pole, up to the top, which is curved. Then I slide down. I am feeling depressed because it has been my intention (my resolution) to repaint the room and it is my belief that I have not begun. Until I notice there are multiple, curved patches of spackle already sealing cracks on the drywall: I have started the project!

The scene switches to a very large room with water spraying me from the ceiling. A shower. When I finish, I look for hooks for my breasts, strange metal bras. My breasts look young, from a teen or a twenty-something female. Michelle J. helps me dig around on some shelving to try to find two hooks that match, but all of them are slightly different. One is shorter than the other. Lots of small, odd pieces of tools are all over the shelves. This feels like a handyman storage-room.

Day notes:

My 2024 resolution was to paint my house, and I did. I painted six rooms. My 2025 resolution is to write, but it has been a stressful time and I am behind my intention. Michelle J. reminds me of writing, because she has published several books, as has my friend Suchi, both of whom I worked with at my final design job. Sadly, I have to repeat my writing resolution for 2026. Writing is a return to the devoted hours I spent in my childhood bedroom, filling notebook after notebook.

Not sure about metal hooks on healthy breasts. The heart? Shower is cleansing, of course.

The pole reminds me of the old-fashioned poles that firemen would slide down to get to their firetrucks.