A second dream followed.
I had bought a very old house. It had been extensively renovated over the years but still retained character of its original design.
As I wandered through the house thinking of what to do with each room, I entered a room that I felt should be much larger than it was. I had not thought about it when first viewing the property, but I could not, for the life of me, figure out what was on the opposite side of one of the walls.
I went outside and walked around the house and found a set of double doors that I knew nothing of. The keys I had did not open the doors. There were windows I could not peer through because there were curtains or something blocking the inside view.
I contacted the agent who sold me the house and learned there were no other keys. She advised me to get a locksmith. I did that.
When the doors were opened, I was amazed and confused. The room was obviously a continuation of the one that had the mystery wall. There was old furniture all over the room, much of it covered as if waiting for better days. The real estate agent was suddenly there with a flashlight and found a newspaper dated 1930. The house had been built in the 1920s, and the suggestion was made that the original owner probably put all the furniture in that side of the room, had the room closed, and planned on coming back at some point. It occurred to me that the owner had probably been impacted by the depression and hoped to rent out the house until better times returned.
The agent suggested I research the house history in the city's "hall of records" and would likely find who had owned the house. It was suggested that there were surely family members who would love to get all that furniture.
My thoughts were that I might also enjoy having all that furniture, because what I could see seemed choice and quite a find.
I woke up. Sigh.
