Land Dream

[Homegrown Tomatoes]

I woke up after a crazy dream about hunting for land a little over half an hour ago (before 5 AM), and thought I'd share it here as there may be some of you who can relate to having an overly sentimental attachment to land.

In the dream, I was with a realtor asking to see some different plots of land in the area where I grew up.  My husband and kids weren't with me in the dream, just me and some realtor.  She and I were standing in the middle of a dirt road about a mile from the family farm I grew up on.  Now, my sophomore year of college, my Grandma sold the farm to a prison company, and they build a maximum security women's prison on the land.   Grandma had wanted to keep the plot of land with the house and the barn, and access to the road, but it was an all or nothing proposition, and they told her she'd be holding up "progress" if she didn't sell...I was heartsick over it, but what could I do?  It wasn't mine to keep or sell.  Anyway, the realtor and I were looking at listings near the farm of some of my childhood friends, and we could see that there was a listing on the next hill over for 35 acres.  I told the realtor that that was impossible because that would have to be on the prison grounds.  But she insisted that's what the directions said, so I told her that we'd take a look.  I figured it must be for the forested land adjoining the back 40 acres of the pasture, a place where miscellaneous trailer houses had been moved in and out, and where the landlords had had trouble keeping their tenants from building drug labs in recent years, but there was no way it was on OUR farm. 

Well, suddenly we were standing at the top of the lane that split the middle of our family farm.  To the west was the hay meadow, and to the east was one of the orchards.  Directly in front of me, to the south in the middle of the biggest pasture, stands the ugly prison building.  There's a sign hanging on the barbed wire fence to the east advertising 35 acres for sale.  I started shaking and I asked, "Where do the boundary lines fall?"  The realtor said, "Best I can tell, it runs from that shed down there (the tractor shed) along the fence (the plum thicket and the big garden spot) down around that little building (the well house) and along that chain link fence to the corner and then from those pecan trees all the way to the next fence to the south."  The land she was describing was the plot just outside the yard of the old house.  Most of it is orchard, but there is one little corner, the northeast, where Grandpa stored the firewood, and he never planted anything that would be in the shade of the two big pecans and a big sycamore tree there... just enough room to build a little house.  By this time, my pulse is racing and I asked her, "Does it include the well rights?"  While she answered, my eyes followed the rows of trees, perfectly spaced by my Grandpa and his father before him,  and I surveyed the fences, still as tight as the day he strung them.  Adjacent to the corner just mentioned, the apple  and peach trees that were the youngest (ones planted in the years just before Grandpa died) didn't look at all like I'd expected... they were not split from the ice storms or stunted or diseased from lack of care... in fact, they had grown large and beautiful (it's been about 15 years ago since grandma sold the farm).  They were covered in fruit, so heavy that the branches looked like they were in danger of breaking.  In front of those two diagonal rows of trees, there was still the row of cultivated (but NOT thornless!) blackberries, and at the south end of that row began the vineyard, running parallel to the east fence.  The rest of that 35 acres is covered in apples on the lower end and peaches toward the hill, and all the trees were covered in fruit. 

By this time, I've taken the real estate sign in my hands and am looking for a price, but the price doesn't matter.  It must be the way compulsive gamblers feel when they're sure if they play one more time they're sure to win.  I don't even care what it costs... and though it isn't practical because there is no room for animals (it is ALL orchard or garden space) I have to have it.  I ask the realtor if any of the pasture acres are available, or the hay meadow and how the access is available, but knowing full well none of that matters.  Somewhere in the logical side of my brain, reason is trying to kick in with something like, "Do you really want to have to see that ugly prison every day?" and, "What about watching the old farmhouse crumble next door to whatever you build?  Do you really want that?"  I don't even care... and I tell myself that if I build in the northeast corner under the big pecans and sycamores, I won't even be able to see the prison for the fruit trees.  The realtor, totally immune to whatever's going on in my mind, says something about moving on to the next listing, and I catch the sound of my own voice sounding almost violent, "WHAT WILL IT COST ME?!!" 

I woke up with my heart racing and my palms all sweaty, almost gasping for air, and wanting to buy that land with everything in me.  Then I couldn't sleep again... so.... I was just thinking of checking out the real estate listing near my hometown

[glenn kangiser]

Pretty detailed.  Usually only happens when you get woke up in the middle of it -- or maybe it was intense enough to wake you, eh?

[Homegrown Tomatoes]

I always have pretty vivid dreams, but this one was especially so... and I woke up before I could pounce on the realtor to demand what it would take for me to have that land.  I swear, I was breathing hard and all wound up about it, and then wide awake as could be.  There's no way that the prison would sell off that land, or that I could afford it if they did as land around there anymore goes for $5K an acre and up.  Gotta admit that it wasn't as funny as the one I had the other morning, though, about trying ot take my husband to the airport in Chicago riding a little kid's tricycle and carrying three passengers...   Think it was the combo of pregnancy hormones, excitement over moving, and the Korean food for dinner.

[Sassy]

Pretty vivid!  Who knows, maybe God is trying to tell you something... or you were dreaming about heaven! 
That 2nd dream was pretty funny!    Yeah, pregnancy can do some strange things   

Anymore, I seldom sleep for more than a few minutes at a time - either it's hot flashes waking me up all night or I am hurting somewhere - stupid arthritis    so don't dream near as much as I used to...

[StinkerBell]

My armchair Diagnosis...


You feel guilty about some crime you did and need to pay! Fess up now and spend sometime in that womens prison.

[Homegrown Tomatoes]

   The rest of my family has all spent time in there... not as inmates, but they've gone in to teach quilting and crocheting and to Christmas carol, etc.  I don't even like to drive by there... it makes me sad.   One of my cousins works as a shrink there... she hates it and is hoping to find work as a marriage counselor elsewhere because it is such a stressful job, especially since all the inmates get suicidal around the holidays.