I had a dream my childhood home was burned down
I was with my mom and my dad
We could see the flames eating the trees of the canyon, baring down from no man’s land
A house I haven’t lived in since I was 18, taken by the bank
Because my dad didn’t believe in paying bills
He invited the squatters.
They filled my baby brother’s Nemo themed bedroom with grow lights
And Pot Plants
I don't miss it
I don't want to go back.
Fires could pour in from every side and I wouldn't feel a thing.
In the dream, dad is desperate to save it
It's still got value for him.
Even though no one is in it. There is nothing worth saving.
It's just a place we used to live.
Its not memories that he wants to salvage.
There are no treasures left behind.
It's an imagined worth, a possible buyer
Who doesn't exist.
Who will see the value of what my father poured his efforts into
When he emptied our trust fund
To dig a hole. And build a 10 foot tall, hideous fence.
He saved nothing. He worked on nothing. He invested nothing.
He took everything... and told us it had value.
And if a fire rips it from the earth
The only person who would care
Is him.
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