Dream: Footprints on the Ceiling
I found myself in a very large, unfinished mansion that was inhabited by a family with five daughters. I met the five of them together in a large area just inside the front door, and they showed me some skate ramps they were working on. The house was at least four stories tall, but was being built from the outside in. Only the outer walls, roof and some rooms on the north and south sides were complete, leaving a cavernous interior space, at the center of which grew a large tree. In the extra space the girls were building several huge skate ramps. There was a tall half-pipe just to the right of the entrance, and above and to the right of that another one with a huge roll-in and a kind of long loop ramp from which one could transfer all the way to the opposite bank of the lower pipe. After our initial meeting, each of the girls wanted to show me their bedroom. I cannot remember all of the rooms, but I went first with the middle daughter. Her room was blue, with a sloped wall on one side and a brown dresser. She jumped on her bed, flipped upside down, and planted her feet on the ceiling, leaving a pair of dusty footprints. She had blond hair and wore a light colored dress with a poofy underskirt. Later, I was back in the center of the house and I noticed something on the ceiling all the way at the top of the house. There was some writing, and underneath it, more footprints. I asked how they had gotten there, and the youngest daughter said she would show me. She handed me a skateboard and we climbed up to the top of the lower half-pipe. We dropped in and pumped back and forth for a while before she transferred all the way up and over into the higher ramp. I dont know how I followed her; maybe I had to climb, but somehow I found myself in the other ramp with her. She continued to build up speed, going higher and higher, and finally she went straight up the roll-in, launched off the top, touched her feet to the ceiling, and landed on a little ledge about ten feet below. “Come on,” she called to me, “I’ll show you my room now.” Again, I somehow found myself on the ledge with her, and we walked along it to the corner of the house, where there was a tiny doorway. We ducked through it, into a small rectangular room, all white and furnished only with a little bed and a vanity with a mirror and a few drawers. It had one window. The girl asked me if I wanted any “tropical juice,” and poured some red juice into a plastic cup. I said I didn’t want any, so she raised the cup to her lips. As she drank, I noticed that her elbow had gone through the wall, as if we were in a video game. I realized that the house was a digital model.