Old fragile matchstick houses...my dream.

Feeling completely lost, wandering around curvy streets in a town I felt like

I’d never been to before way up high in the hills, asking directions and getting confusing answers. I suddenly saw houses very tall elegant unvarnished and raw, old wooden Victorian houses one after another all lined up....... old brown worn matchsticks looking, blown by the winds fragile, delicate feeling lined up proud and painterly in soft sunlight.

They seemed to have long deep gardens behind them and felt to be abandoned. Only one made my eyes jump when I saw a for sale sign. Made me wonder who might have lived in these houses and what happened and why there was energy stirring around any of them.

As I wandered back down a lonely street in an unknown direction curving along I suddenly came into a completely different mood of the old houses, more elegant and sophisticated and made from a more substantial sculpted cement very very elegant like the old mansions of San Francisco. They also seemed to be abandoned and I was wondering where I was and how I never knew about this hill with all these amazing houses standing so proud.

I felt that it was getting late and I needed to get moving as I had no idea where I was. Some where I ran into my friend Sarah and for a while I told her about these beautiful old houses on the hill and did she know of them? She said no and didn't seem interested when suddenly her sister showed up. I felt alone again I felt completely ignored by them as they went on talking about money things that I had no interest in and cared nothing about.

I felt the separation of feelings and time. My dream haunts me the way Cuba haunted me when I drove through Mantanzas on the edge of the sea and saw all those pale watercolor feeling elegant houses of the old days with tall columns with gently sculpted top ornaments, all a little different from one another.There were people living in them, another feeling of time, of place. a family a life, a world of its own so far from my own and I was there whizzing by hidden in an old Russian lada car on the way to pick up my friend who promised he would wait for me on the side of the road on the way to Havana. He was there, he didn't disappoint me. I was relieved to see him as I had been feeling so insecure and drinking rum all by myself crying and talking into my tape recorder for it seemed like hours trying to figure out who I was, where I was, what I was doing putting myself out on a limb for a lover and short brief moments of ecstasy to create memories I will never forget.