The other night I dreamed that I still lived in a dorm. Not that I was still in college. I was implicitly quite beyond the school years. I just happened to be living in a space explicitly built for students.
Not exactly a nightmare, but I wasn't really wistful about waking up either. It's an okay place to live for a while. I made some friends while actually living in the dorms. But it's not an inherently charming way/place to live. And as far as friends go, I didn't actually seem to know any of these kids, which couldn't have helped.
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It's interesting how dreams about places one once knew well can appear years after the fact. I once dreamed about being in Armadillo Arms but couldn't see our friends. As I searched the house I found an entrance to a wing I'd never known about where there were large rooms with windows that looked out on unfamiliar but beautiful views. As I continued walking I came upon a huge gently lit space where I could hear people I seemed to know well talking and laughing but I couldn't actually find them. It was a dream that did leave me wistful upon awakening.
btw: After finishing reading Five Red Herrings I've decided not to foist it on you despite Sayer's hilariously over the top use of bicycle paths and train schedules. I did find a legible map online, however, which I'll fold and put inside the book when I drop it off at the little free library. If you ever do get the urge to read another Wimsey (note the name) I'd recommend Nine Tailors with the caveat it's also silly.
The dream about the Arms seems quite the treasure trove. And there are truths buried inside it. There are some things within your control and some outside of it. The past in itself is outside of your control, but you can choose a few things to take from it. It's nonlinear, of course, but sometimes you can consider things from a different angle when you sleep.
I'll pencil Nine Tailors in for one of my upcoming mystery reads. Silliness in itself isn't going to put me off. There's a certain kind of silliness that adds spice to the genre. Then there are intelligence insulting kinds of silliness, but I don't think Sayers is going to subject me to that. Maps were a very big thing with detective stories from that era. They stopped appearing, I guess, when the characters became more mobile so you didn't have eight suspects all staying in one house at the same time. May the next user of the little free library enjoy this one.
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