Is it Me?

SUN 8 June 2010:
The beauty of my dreamworld this night made it still a very unpleasant surprise that the reality past the memories of my dreams. Tonight I was back in the house where I grew up. An old house along one of the small canals in Amsterdam. The heavy wooden door, with a small rectangular window on eye height (a few years later it turned out to be the mailbox). On the end of the hall their was a door opening which in my memories was a hole of light. It was the living room behind this door with it’s big windows on the garden side as well on the waterside that formed the light source. The living room I remembered covered with the curly shadows of tree branches and leaves and the twinkling of the diffuse reflection of the water in the canal, I felt at home.