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happily renting

I Had A Dream

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I was in my house but it wasn't my house – you know how dreams are. I knew it was home, even if it was much more richly appointed than the humble bungalow my wife and I inhabit outside of dreams. There was a commotion outside. A tall new fence had gone up along the western boundary! Why would my landlord do that? There were deer on the other side (we get a lot of those). It appeared to be an enclosure.

A man was getting out of a van parked on the driveway. He had a bear with him. It was obviously someone in a costume; then he turned into a real bear and ran away. I approached the man, intuitively knowing he was responsible for the fence. Invited him inside. He was friendly, and gave us an iPad. This bewildered my wife, but she accepted it. Then he said this was only a loan, we'd have to give it back in 10 days. Weirdly particular that.

He left. I followed him, now noticing signs of imminent construction. I suddenly had a terrible sense of forboding that they were going to build houses all around us. (We live out in the Shire. It's inconvenient, but we specifically chose it because this is where we want to come home to every day. Our hobbit hole with a view is situated on the lip of a shallow valley. It's a peaceful oasis, except when military helicopters buzz the sheep. We have no immediate neighbours. You might call us NIMBYs, though we have no say in such matters.) As I struggled to catch up to the man it became clear that a large development was in the works.

I lost him. Approached a group of workers eating in an open tent. "What's going on?" I asked one of them. "What does it look like?" he said. "What's going to happen in the future?" I asked. "I can only tell you about tomorrow," he said.

As I stumbled back I noticed that houses had already gone up, more and more of them. By they time I neared home it was practically a city. I saw my wife leaning outside a window talking to a couple of kids. There was a concrete amphitheatre directly in front of our place, which had morphed into an apartment building reminiscent of the one we used to live in 20 years ago back in Jersey City (NYC's despised neighbour). A huge pit had been carved into the meadow. I wondered if it was going to be a much larger version of the artificial pond in the (real) development a few miles down the road.

I was grief-struck. We've lived here 13 years. My HPC username is based on our feelings about having found our slice of heaven. When I woke up, the first thing I did was open the curtains: confirmation, if such was needed, that I'd just had a nightmare.

I've posted this in OT because despite the topical nature of the dream I did indeed have last night, exactly as described, it doesn't belong in the main forum; nor does it quite qualify for Anecdotals.

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We found HPC about the time we were landing deep in sheep country. We had previously attempted to buy our first house, only to have the owners string us along for months before upping the asking price by an extra 50k for their retirement fund, which they got, if not from us. We had a budget of 200k. Everything was shooting well past this. It seemed a little crazy. We decided to sit it out. Those were the days when we truly believed the bubble would be popped by market forces. HPC was a pool of cool sanity, with MrPin as lifeguard. (OK, those were the days before MrPin.) This was where I first read about 'sheeple', which made me smile sadly whenever I gazed out the window.

I have to admit, sometimes we look back and kick ourselves for not jumping in. God knows we'd probably be sitting on a large pile of equity now. We'd console ourselves with the thought that you never really own anything, you just borrow it; meanwhile we were living our lives in the type of place we never could've afforded to buy anyway, as even humble bungalows can be quite dear in the Shire. You might say we were already living the dream.

As it became increasingly clear the madness wasn't going to end anytime soon, I visited HPC less and less, though still touched base from time to time. I'd never posted that often to begin with, preferring to spectate. It's always marvelous to watch the rapid deconstruction and evisceration of news stories and propaganda that passes for news.

I'm fond of the contrarian decor. I like that so-called zombie threads are calmly accepted, unlike so many sites where they're treated with a kind of horror, as if anything said in the past cannot possibly be instructive today. I enjoy reading the changing roster of regulars, including MrPin and his sidekick (or is it the other way around?), my nominal doppelgänger happy_renting.

Meanwhile I've learned a few useful things here in OT, like the fact that shaving foam isn't strictly necessary in order to shave, at least if you catch your whiskers early. Actually that's the only one I remember offhand.

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In a roundabout way, Brexit brought me here again. I've been watching the reaction, particularly in the States, with dismay, and finally roused myself to post this on a bustling American political site. The response made me think of bubbles – in this case media bubbles, in which so many reside, thinking themselves sufficiently informed to pass withering judgement on anyone who dares disagree with the approved consensus opinion. It also made me think about how I always seem to end up in the minority, even when in the majority.

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Our budget is still around what it was in the early noughties. Perhaps it's enough for shared ownership in a time machine.

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I had a dream. I was naked and chased by bears.

Then I woke up.

I am a man of simple dreams.

I was nuked and chased by drummers. I had to hide all the clocks in the shed safe from tobacco weilding children. Dreams only make sense to psychologists!. -_--_-

In real life a gentleman who sounded Irish has just knocked on my door and offered to sell me a 6.5kW generator and some other stolen (I reckon) plant. What would I do with a JCB? :huh:

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I was nuked and chased by drummers. I had to hide all the clocks in the shed safe from tobacco weilding children. Dreams only make sense to psychologists!. -_--_-

In real life a gentleman who sounded Irish has just knocked on my door and offered to sell me a 6.5kW generator and some other stolen (I reckon) plant. What would I do with a JCB? :huh:

DIY swimming pool.

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DIY swimming pool.

I can't imagine why a random person would try to sell me a industrial generator at my door. :blink: This wasn't a dream.

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Was it one of these?

If so it's a scam; guy tried to sell me one to power my garage door opener.

Is that Helen or Rina? :wacko:

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Was it one of these?generator.jpg

If so it's a scam; guy tried to sell me one to power my garage door opener.

That's why you should never park your traction engine in Liverpool.

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That's why you should never park your traction engine in Liverpool.

The locals might nick the boiler?

One of my mate's wife is related to the Dibnah lot!

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