A few nights ago, The Brides were taking their tour of [the new house is still unnamed], and as Rhonda passed through one room to another, she commented that it reminded her of a dream she’d had. She was in a place she knew well, then suddenly realized there was a part of it she’d never seen before or had forgotten was there.
I’ve had those dreams, too. I remember in one of the first I ever had, I opened the door of a kitchen pantry that really existed in our Army post quarters when I’d have been maybe five or six. But instead of seeing a small pantry, it was a huge room, its shelves filled with all kinds of children’s games. And I had this, OH! Now I remember this! moment. When I woke up, I’m not sure whether I was more disappointed that of course such a room never existed, or that I wasn’t actually a little kid anymore.
In those dreams, whether the rooms are full or empty, whether there’s a sense of, Yes, there IS this place, or Oh, I never knew this was here!, dream interpreters generally concur that a house in dreams represents the dreamer. We are each of us, of course, full of mysteries, of unexplored rooms, of places within that can be called Narnia or Middle Earth or Wonderland.
I do have an actual physical wardrobe, and probably if I ever opened it and heard the laughter or shouts of children from somewhere beyond what I think is its solid wooden back, it would terrify me!