Last night I had the strangest dream…

“They” say you’ve fully mastered a second language when you begin dreaming in it. Does it work the same with design? You know you’ve got some creative juices churning when you dream about interiors. Right?

Before I get to that, here’s this. As Gadora typed today’s post title, I began singing off-key, “Last night I had the strangest dream…I sailed away to China, in a lil row boat to find ya’…,” laa tah tah laa, mmm, “Ain’t nothing gonna break my stride… nothing gonna hold me down, Ohhh Nooo!” Who sang that?

Matthew Wilder. One hit wonder. Who knew we shared our last name? It was a song my BFF long ago happily chirped. She loved the part where he sped up the tempo, “in a lil row boat to find ya.” But I digress.

The dream. Here goes. I got myself a new apartment. It was one of a thousand in a long row of 2-story cookie cutter townhouses. (Blech!) Stucco. Ugly. I’d passed it at first. Then realizing “Unit #116” was behind me, I turned and ran with all my might to the front door. Home, I thought.

When I opened the door, I was floored. Expecting to see an expansive lofty room, overlooking the tree-lined creek out back, I ran right into a hallway leading to a teeny, narrow spiral staircase with pink and purple berber carpeting. The closest visual reference I can find is this.

La Fontaine stairwell
La Fontaine stairwell in Manama

I wound my way down about 15 steps, and paused on a landing just wide enough for my feet. From there, I spiraled my way up another narrow staircase, this time carpeted in purple and blue berber, to find my room. A tiny (10×10?) Master Suite sloped down like a terraced rice crop, also conveniently carpeted in alternating layers of putrid purple and pink berber.

Bay-Yo rice terraces
Bay-Yo rice terraces

How ever could this be my newly anticipated love den? Sniffle. Where would my bed go? Sob. Wait, where’s the rest of my palace? I ran down, then up and out the door screaming. Upon realizing I’d just signed the lease to this salmon-hued box, I set out to find the leasing agent. What’s her name. She never materialized. But in the hunt, I found my tacky row of townhouses had turned into quite a modern hi-rise. The work-out facility was stupendous. Several pools, indoor and out. A large and wildly popular sauna. A bowling alley-slash-Skee ball run. And hundreds of people enjoying it all. I still continued crying.

And then I awoke. Lying in my bed, in my room, perfectly content to just be right here. But needing to get my dream out of my head, I ponder what it could possibly mean. Perhaps, good design, like learning a second language is a skill worth muddling through the challenging times. Like not finding great design incorporating pink carpet, you just keep on keeping on ’til you find what you want. Follow your bliss, my Mom once offered. Ain’t nothing gonna break my stride, nobody gonna slow me down, oh no, I’ve got to keep on moving.

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