Saturday, January 28, 2012

The House with the Pink Door

Three days have passed since my dream of the derelict. I've spent that time trying to familiarize myself with my surroundings. When I woke up that day, I no longer knew where I was. Feelings of deja-vu came upon me often as I slowly started to recognize the old place.

The old place: I know I've been here for so very long and yet still it seems strange and new. This place could use a lick of paint or perhaps a stick of furniture or two. I can't remember why the place looks so bare. I just know this is how it's meant to look.

It's always spartan in decor. It's always the same grey walls. It's home though. It's the base. I know that. Then there is the outside: The outside holds some kind of menace. I can;t put my finger on it yet, It;s a different kind of threat outside the front door to that outside the back door.

The back door leads to the back yard which is open and that's where things tend to get physical. I don't quite know and can't put my finger on it exactly. I just sense that there are tensions that side of the house sometimes and the threat is physical. You need a way to retreat back into the house through the back door. You need to always keep that exit route close.

The front door though leads out onto a more public scene. There's no immediate threat there. It's just a more hidden, organized, watching menace you have to watch out for. You can step outside and venture a lot further than you can out the back. You can walk even as far as the end of the street right to where it opens out on to the main road that leads into the town.

You can even venture some way towards the town. So long as you come back. You must always come back. Back here. Back to the house. Back to the house with the pink door.

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