in my heart

looking at it from the outside, it's pretty. the paint is clean, it's nice and polished white. it's probably been done recently, but i wonder why it had to be repainted, especially seeing the trace of brick lining, i start to wonder what it looked like naturally, who thought they should change it. i take a couple of steps towards the door, and notice that a few of the cobblestones are loose. i guess they haven't replaced them, and i wonder if they noticed that they were loose or not. there's a gate, with one single lock on it, asking for a code. it's only a dream, so i knew the code intuitively but wondered why there was one if the home was abandoned and empty. as i open the gate, continuing to walk toward the door, i admire the garden for a second, lined with light pink carnations. there's a little dedication sign, but i can't quite read what the name says, so i continue on my path of loose and broken cobblestones. as i walk up the steps, i notice the porch is loose too. what happened here? the house isn't that old, it was made in 2001 but i can still feel the absence of the love that existed here, it still leaves a presence. so why is everything in this kind of condition? i open the door, and it creaks as i take a step into the entry. it looks like it was just left in the middle of a random day, the furniture stayed but everything is coated in a layer of dust. there was so much love here. i cover my nose with my shirt, and take a few more steps. that's when i notice other things, that were .. seemingly underlying. in the living room, the brick of the fireplace had fallen apart. which makes me smile, when i realize that it tells me it was cherished. the kitchen was tidy enough, burn marks on the stove and in the sink make me think that perhaps they loved to host get-togethers with close friends here, to host and have people they cherished around their fireplace. the heart of the home. i walk more around the home, my heart simultaneously heavy and light. there were so many rooms, specifically decorated for different personalities. they had dedicated spaces for so many people. one in maroon as well as other colors, one had the walls covered in carpet with obstacles among the pieces, one in red, with pieces checkered black and white. they all looked so specific, and i couldn't help but wonder who lived in these rooms. who slept here, what were they like, what kind of conversations did they have? where did they all go? wandering into the basement, was what told me the most. this is where secrets were buried. two windows were shattered, boxes of notebooks lined the walls. i peeked into a few of them that told me more about who used to be here. i found stories of love, stories of hatred. stories of a self love journey, which led to painting over the brick, and it made me sad because i thought it must have looked so beautiful before, and if it's all covered is it really self love, or a version of yourself that you're hiding to be someone else? among the love stories, i learned who the pink carnations were dedicated to. the carnations were dedicated to someone she loved, and they were the first flowers she received from them. i learned in a story of friendship who the maroon room was for, and found pictures of a long-haired cat who slept in the carpeted room so that she could climb the walls. the checkered room, and the lock, were for the same person as the carnations were for, and only they knew the lock combination. she referred to them as "the locksmith". finally, i found the story of the fireplace in a journal. they told of how when the fireplace fell apart, they had no choice but to leave. they knew they were leaving behind a beautiful home, full of laughter, light, and people they let close to their heart, but when the heart was destroyed, they knew they had to leave it all behind. and they wrote, books and books of writing, so that anyone who stepped foot would know every story in these walls. but it was all a dream, right?