"It was like a limo house with a 5 layer bunk bed. It went right up to the ceiling and it made him bump his head. It had a warm drawer that does not need electricity so that if the electricity went out and you had no fire you would still warm up your supper. It had three taps, one cold, one warm and one hot." My daughter described a t.v show she saw. I have a little trouble understanding when and where since we have no house porn channels and neither does her grandma, but she can picture (and illustrate) it clearly. Perhaps it was a dream, perhaps she's deflecting attention away from me seeing how vivid her imagination is.
How did I stop seeing so much detail in my daydreams? How did those generous proportions of possibility and vision get so obscured and condensed? Did they start to be obscured when I started obeying an instinct to tell people it was a show, not my mind, that presented such ideas?
For the record, now that I can picture it, I cannot unpicture it. I would live in that house in a second given half a chance.
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