It was at one of my old apartments.
The unit had a large balcony parallel to an I95 overpass. Though it was hardly a high rise building, my “penthouse” unit was at least 5 stories high.
My bedroom opened onto the balcony; in the dream much like in waking life I took any opportunity I could to go out there.
For some reason, on this occasion–a beautiful mild day–I went back and forth inside then out on the balcony a lot of times.
Probably the second or third time out, I noticed that the railing of the balcony was shaky. I worried over it for only a minute before deciding to sit away from it on the opposite side of the balcony which was (again, as in waking life) a brick wall.
The next time I went in, I emerged onto the balcony with a partner–not sure how or why he showed up as I only know him in waking life cordially and without a last name. In this instance, he was my romantic partner and laughed off my now palpable fear of the once shaky, now non-existent balcony railing.
Somehow, this railing had now become part of the journey I had to make back into the apartment. I managed to make the journey back into the apartment without the aid of the railing once or twice. I’m not sure if there was a ladder involved or some high jumping. But each time I made the trip–and I kept making the trip for some reason–my fear became greater until I was pinned to the opposite brick wall of the balcony afraid to make the trip again.
My partner was nowhere to be found now. What would I do? I knew I could not spend the night on the balcony, nor my entire life out there despite feeling like that was what it was about to come down to. I had to get back into the apartment; to get over my fear and do what I had previously managed to do–albeit cautiously and reluctantly.
Before waking I managed to get in. And once inside the apartment I made up my mind to never make the trip out to my beloved balcony again. Which made me very sad. I woke up sad.
Just joining my daydream log? Read more about my daydream sequences here and read the whole sequence here.
darlene anita scott 