dream log: one big family

Incidentally, this dream log suffers from potential unrealized - that being because like a lazy bones I insouciantly put off jotting them down, and like a fugitive, the clarity of those dreams were paroled by the fleetings of memory. There were 3, all incandescently brilliant, and strangely with each transmission into the next dream, the intonations became more dark and severe - dark in the sense of how my dream realm draws: sheer, overwhelming resolve in apocalyptic tumult. I wish I could've indulged you in the latter 2, but we'll have to suffice with the one I recall, a domestic heart-warmer:

I'm throwing a house party, an enchanting, winning house party. The corridors and hallways of the house are infinite, they go on forever like sprawling portals. Everyone is here, and I can't recount most of the names or faces, but let's simply say everyone who has ever stamped himself in my memory, from Allen Ginsberg to my best bud in 3rd grade. And, of course, that one romantic meta-charmer whom always seems to pop here beautiful expression around even when she's far removed from my thoughts. She was there too, and we shared company, flirted, became close, and I felt we were meant to be coupled as one. As the night roared on, then lulled down to an end and my friends dispersed, the house became barren of what was just moments ago an infectious vitality. The portals receded and became immediate, the house dimmed and felt closeted. This manifestation most positively one derived from my current apartment situation, a vagabond living alone in a 4 bedroom.

As I drifted the emptied hallways, struck by a case of abandonment, a noise coming from downstairs rattles me. I hesitantly set out, arming myself with closest metal object, tip-toeing hesitantly to find out what the sound might be, milieu or menace. Standing in front of the glass sliding door, the noise declares itself, and as my attention turns toward it, a man emerges from the shadow of the computer room. I pounce back, startled, and reflex defensively. But, then, I notice behind him are also women and other men, and realize the tenderness exuding from all their eyes, and release my defenses.

Cluttered in that small space are about 25 of them, of various ages and backgrounds.
- How'd you get in?
- We were working the party and discreetly stuck around. We're part of the Painters' Union. We'll leave if you want. We're just looking for shelter.
- No! Stay until Friday. I have the place for 2 more weeks. Maybe if all goes splendid you can stay until then.

And so they stay. My only requisite is that they don't disturb my bathroom situation, meaning I ain't sharing my bathroom space. Their presence invigorates me, transforms the house into a home, and we become a family, a circus juggling one another's distinctions and learning to love them. And me, I am the guiding patriarch: warm, gentle, empathetic.