Sometimes at night, I dream. I do not dream about the future, or things that happened in the past. No, my dreams are far more elaborate than that. I dream…that I’m buying a house. It is a wonderful moment, this fulfillment of the great Australian dream. My Melbourne property conveyancer stands nearby, applauding at both her own effort and mine, for this was a joint effort. I stand before my home, conveyancer somehow applauding whilst holding a large stack of papers that prove my ownership, and I enter the house.
But then, my dream takes a turn for something much worse. I step inside, and find that I’ve accidentally bought the home equivalent of a shoebox. I can barely fit a small dining chair through the door, after which I sit down and tuck my legs up to my chin since there’s only room for the chair. There are no windows, so once the door is closed, I’m all alone. I sit there for a while, wondering about perhaps adding some kind of extension. Then I realise that I have no kitchen or laundry facilities, and I wake up screaming.
I’ve tried to talk to my conveyancer about this, but they’ve assured me that housing dreams are common when someone is buying a home for the first time. They say that all property transfers in Melbourne are protected by law, and that I can’t buy a shoebox without my knowledge. But…what if I do? Maybe I’ll sleepwalk and ruin my chances forever!
Sometimes, we must find our spirit animal before we find ourselves. A black cat will knock a clover-shaped ladder onto your head. Your lucky number is 45 miles per hour.