The House Built From Old Lives

Dream recorded: 9/21/2026

It was nighttime. I was at her home.

I bought a new house, my grandmother’s house, but it wasn’t my grandmother’s house.

There were three kids, two little fair-skinned girls. I’m not sure if they were white, and I think another little girl, definitely darker-complected.

It was my grandmother’s home, though, but it was redesigned.

The kitchen was different. There were layers to the counter, like you could go under it. It was so deep.

There were so many things. Everything looked different, but similar.

I was living here now.

I was moving things, changing things, but she left everything. She just left, just moved out.

She didn’t take anything out of the house. The pictures, the paintings, nothing.

I was sleeping in her room, or maybe another room in the back, and there were construction workers, or something happening next door, like a business.

There were a whole bunch of people out there fixing it, partying, and people came to our porch just to relax.

The porch was longer, L-shaped.

But I left the door open, and one of the little girls told me, without moving, I was still in the back, that a man was poking through the door saying “2” with two fingers.

And I was like, “Oh, hell no.”

So I ran out there, and I opened the door, and I was like, “Y’all can’t be here.”

And they asked if we needed help. They were nice.

And I was looking at the white guy, who was, I think, the one that poked through the door, scolding him.

They were looking for another place to hang out.

So I closed the door and the girls woke up.

And then my aunt came by.

More people came by. They just made themselves comfortable because I was up.

And then the light got brighter and the home was more noticeable.

I can’t even explain the architecture, but it was my grandmother’s house.

There were so many things in there that I was telling myself I needed to get fixed and take out and basically make it mine.

But I didn’t know what to do with everything. It was a little overwhelming.

But outside was like a city. It wasn’t a neighborhood.

Again, there was a business that was like a new-age company, construction. So much was going on outside.

Inside felt like my grandmother’s home, but it wasn’t.

It was like stacked memories of homes, many living spaces that I lived at and maybe others.

But it was her home.

She wasn’t there anymore. She moved out.

I don’t know why she moved out, but I was moving in.

In real life, my grandmother passed on to the next journey on 9/29/15.

Dream 2

I saw my grandma. We were walking.

She was explaining to me.

We were at a bus stop bench. A stop sign was there.

She looked happy, younger.