The rain brings floods, stalled cars and among other things, strange dreams. Submerged beneath waves of sleep, the past clawed out, grasped, pulled me under.
And then I was back in the old house of an old friend, an apartment in the sky. Going in, I realized that she was going to move out the next day. The place was dark - it was late evening, and no one had turned on the lights. The television and the couch was gone, presumably sent off to her new house. Where the television used to be were some mattresses - ah, her family was over, probably to see her off. The balcony was empty, cleared of the hanging apparatus she used to hang her clothes out to dry. I looked out - instead of the swimming pool and the other blocks of apartment, it was the edge of the sea. There were marshes where the sea met the land - I could clearly see a man walking in it. I walked to the kitchen - which now looked different. The old place was now mixed with the structure of my house, although at that point, all I could do was note that the built-in furniture was still there, and that there was some weird hanger hanging off the ceiling.
Dawn snatched me back from the depths of sleep before I could visit the three bedrooms and the toilet. As I lay awake, the structure of apartment came back to me. Sometimes, I think my affinity for locations (as opposed to people) can lead to really strange dreams. Dreams where the house itself haunts me.