—Edgar Allan Poe
Finding a Niche
There is a hidden life of dreams psychologists claim is the domain of the unconscious, but like all arcane notions there's a gap in our knowledge, actually a chasm.
No one really knows what goes on in the Cave of the Psyche where our ancient selves still write on walls and try to represent reality. We draw pictures of what we see around us and it doesn't matter if it's dead or living, or real or imagined.
All I know is there's another world in my dreams with a familiar but altered landscape, peopled with others, strange or familiar, I've never met, or haven't yet, or am just about to.
And we all discuss it as if we knew but we really know nothing. Einstein talked about spooky action at a distance—but hadn't a clue how impenetrable the mystery really was.
I awaken from that other life groggy and uncertain. Was it raining during the night or was that part of what I was dreaming? Surprisingly, my shoes are wet when I put them on and my coat in the closet damp and that makes no sense.
There's a girl I meet each night in that other dimension and we've been sharing a life for as long as I can remember, but the details are foggy, obscured as her face, as lovely and uncertain as a walk in the rain and all I can recall is the sound of fog horns.
I've been somewhere I know but it's a maddening tip of the tongue phenomenon when one word could unlock the whole puzzlement—her name, the street, the city, the pub—I just need a name and everything will spill out like photos from a wallet...
But I'm chasing the tail of my own mind—it's never going to happen and I'm running late for an appointment with some new clients.
Herb and Mazie Miller rent a townhouse in Mississauga, a sprawling city forming part of greater Toronto. So far we've just chatted over the phone and I suggested we meet in person to determine their needs.
They 're interested in buying a home but have no idea of what they want—and that's where I come in. I have this unique talent for matching people to properties and that's why the couple decided to come to me.
As soon as they open their door to greet me, I get a feel for what they need. This couple are stuck in a time warp—everything about them screams mid-century.
Herb is a financial consultant who collects stamps and still pays bills by writing personal checks. Mazie wears a print dress and loves to bake and garden and seems to channel June Cleaver, minus the pearl necklace.
"How many listings have you actually seen?" I ask Herb.
He shrugs, "About two hundred—we've lost count. We keep hoping we'll find our dream house but so far, nothing seems to pop."
Try to imagine Darrin and Samantha Stephens from the TV sitcom Bewitched in any other home than the one they inhabited on Morning Glory Circle—it just wouldn't work. There has to be a perfect marriage between characters and setting—not only in fantasy but also in reality.
I had just the property for Herb and Mazie—a mid-century modern home built in the early 50's with a wide, low footprint with large, open spaces and floor-to-ceiling windows bringing the outdoors in. This couple would be right in their element.
Sure enough, when they saw it, it was love at first sight.
"It's a winner," Herb enthused and Mazie oohed and aahed over the bright and spacious rooms and the sprawling lot that was perfect for gardening.
It's a fact we all live in our own sensory bubbles, perceiving the world through our own particular perspective. We inhabit our unique umwelt which is comfortable to us and reinforces our own particular way of seeing the world.
We don't all live in the same universe, but construct our own realities. Finding a property for Herb and Mazie became easy as soon as I discerned their distinctive personalities which determined their preferences.
It wasn't mystical or rocket science, simply paying attention to life.
We made an offer on the property and I assured the couple it would be accepted. They were overjoyed at finally finding their niche in the grand scheme of things.
As I was driving home afterwards, I was mulling over my own sense of rootlessness. Here I was matching people with their dream houses and was unsettled myself.
I felt detached from reality but unless I could connect the dots in my personal life I didn't see a way out of this dilemma and my sense of isolation.
My damp clothes had dried from the night before but the mystery still clung to me, filling me with nostalgia for a world just beyond my finger tips.
I could sense it but it eluded my grasp.