I am dreaming of 33 Wellington St. A house I pass at least once a week. A constant reminder of the “golden years” of my life – tinged also with some darkness as it wasn’t always easy either.
In 1981 I lived there and in 1982 I met Tula and she moved in with me. I bought a big red Suzuki 750. I also got a disease from a woman I shall call Ms C.
This dream centred on going back to the house now and meeting the owner/occupier a woman in her 40′s called Cecilia. She was not “my type” in a physical way but I liked her personality she seemed reasonable. There was a discussion about renting 33 Wellington St as I declared I couldn’t afford to buy it (though I would if I had the spare cash) But that if she was selling to contact me as I was certain I could arrange finance. I end up finding several friends to co-fund the purchase, though not people I would immediately think of to co-share a place, the offer is for a quasi office/commercial use.
As I negotiate with Cecilia I find myself becoming entwined with her through our shared love of the house. She doesn’t really want to give it up. Part of me wants her to so I can have the place, but part of me wants her to stay so I don’t have the responsibility, but have the pleasure with having to live with her being an appealing prospect, though not a driven choice o my part.
It feels right. Meanwhile Mr S and Mr S have come over and I am part way through explaining the finances and it has become apparent to them there is a greater interest which they both interpret as sexual. I am happy for it to become and be seen as such, but in reality it isn’t so.
So the rental contract appears as if it might become a sale/purchase and I has stepped a notch. There had been a recent development with two girls – heirs from a previous owner who had been in jail, but whose prior rights had just come to light. Cecilia was in the position of being bound to sell to them first or give it back free of any charges.
But fro some reason this claim has appeared to have subsided. So I am in a rear bedroom making final plans , need to get dressed, get a lift with Cecilia to sign the documents at her place of work then move on to the daily grind. I can’t find a purple sock among the stuff on the floor, and Mr S is holding me up through small talk and his curiosity; waiting to know more about the situation.
Afterward I head downstairs and outside to get breakfast with Cecilia. We discuss the merits of ham and cheese croissant and opt for that.
