Last night’s dream:
The One Room School Desk
I’m talking with Deborah about a piece of furniture of mine that she still has; she tells me that she hopes it will be OK that she had it worked on – it was just a tiny bit too big, and they were able to take just a fraction of an inch off. I’m concerned when she says this, because it’s an old piece with a lot of sentimental value, and I don’t want to see it ruined. I go with her to her house, carrying a weird thing that looks like a cross between a wicker bread basket and a sarcophagus – it’s roundly coffin-shaped, but very open, with wicker bars running from the base to the top rim. It has no lid. I think it belongs to her, and I’m bringing it back to her. We go by way of walking across a hammock-like web that’s strung from my house’s eaves to hers – it’s white cotton, like a Southern-style backyard lounging hammock. When I get to her deck, I leap over a long pile of debris that’s set up like a dam across the front of the deck. I think she just stepped over it. I jumped solid with both feet, so that I made a resounding THUMP when I hit the other side. It seemed funny to me at the time.
We go inside, and she shows me the desk – I explain that it was a desk from the one-room school where my Grandmother once taught. I pick it up (now seemingly in miniature) and look at it – there are several wooden members that have been replaced with plywood. There are runes written along the edges of the plywood. It bothers me a lot – partly because it seems like it was ridiculous to entirely rebuild the piece just to take off part of an inch (apparently it wasn’t made much smaller by the rebuilding work) and partly because it damaged the historical value of the piece to take out so much original wood. It has several sloping surfaces, and doesn’t look much like a desk – I can’t think of a piece of furniture that looks like it, except possibly a printing press – several flat surfaces, at sloping angles, connected by wooden uprights. I don’t remember reading any message in the runes along the edges of the wood, only that they were there.