Are hopes and dreams stored together?

Funny thing about this house we purchased on a whim two years ago was that the basement haunted me even before we moved in. The entrance is a wide-open descent from the main foyer – in reverse of the upward rising staircases of dream homes.

I would wake at night, in a sweat, fearing that the things that basements conceal would be unhindered.

Foolishness, I told myself, and yet, there was an element of premonition in this concern.

What I couldn’t have known then was that war would break out, and we would re-examine the purpose of our basement, and dedicate time and money to its renovation in order to house the hopes and fears of others. Perhaps what my soul was sensing, even in those first days, was that life would call me to a deeper engagement: the doors to my inner resources would be forced open. No more hiding away.

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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

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