Dream Home

I often feel like I’m a kid sleeping in a fort.  I felt like this in the old van, too, but even more so now - now that I built it all with my own two hands.  It’s a good feeling - like that feeling when I was a kid and made a fort out of blankets and chairs and all of a sudden my bedroom transformed and took me somewhere else - somewhere between reality and the imagination.  

There’s something magical in using what’s lying around and turning it into something it wasn’t made for.  Like a pumpkin into a carriage, a carpet into a ride, or a van into a home.  I often think of Peter Pan and the lost boys’ tree they lived in or Swiss Family Robinson’s treehouse - how they all used a simple thing to create a dream home.  It’s the childlike creativity that gave those treehouses a magical feel.  Not perfection.  Having just enough to get the job done then filling in the gaps with imagination.  It’s like having a home that only a dreamer can see in it’s entirety.  It’s like living half in the world and half in a dream.  

In the middle of reading Invisible Child by Andrea Elliott - written by an award winning journalist who follows a girl, Dasani, as she fights to survive the harsh conditions built by generations of a corrupt system.

Recently made a privacy curtain with a scarf I had stuffed away and a couple of clothespins.  Feeling extra fort-like now.