The House on Kodi Street (My Dream Story)

 

"The House on Kodi Street"
By Deedee Jebrail

The house on Kodi Street had been vacant for years—its frame decaying, paint peeling, windows always closed. Then, almost overnight, it was reborn. New paint, glowing windows, stylish furniture that didn’t match the age of the place. It was like someone had dressed a ghost in silk and perfume.

A woman moved in. Elegant. Effortless. The type of person who makes old spaces look intentional. She was standing on the newly swept porch when I arrived with my son and a young blonde girl—. My son clutched his sketchpad, quiet as always. The blonde girl, giggling and curious, ran ahead of us, already exploring the creaky corners of the house.

Inside, we sat and sipped tea from delicate porcelain cups that didn’t match. I found myself talking about Kodi, a friend who used to live here. “I really liked her,” I told the woman, though my voice felt far away. “There was something about her—like the house loved her.”

The woman nodded, a knowing glint in her eye. “This place remembers people,” she said softly.

Then we noticed the girl was gone.

Panic flickered in my chest. I stood abruptly. “I have to find her,” I said. “She wouldn’t just wander off.” We searched every room, but it was the sound of the toilet flushing that caught our ears. The bathroom door creaked open.

She stepped out—barefoot, shaking. Not the same girl. Her skin was grey-blue, lips pale, cheeks sunken like something had drained the life out of her in a matter of minutes. Her bright hair clung to her face, and her eyes were hollow. I gasped, hand to my mouth.

“What happened to you?” I whispered. “Why is there… blood?”

We looked back. The water had overflowed. Not from the toilet—but from a stone fountain in the hallway I hadn’t noticed before. It was old, carved into the wall, with dark water that pulsed like a heartbeat. A statue of Ganesha loomed at the end of the basin. Water spilled from its trunk, stained deep red.

The woman was calm. “She found the fountain,” she said. “Some children do.”

I wrapped the girl in my arms. She trembled like something had followed her back from wherever she’d gone.

“She never wants to leave now,” I told the woman. “Even before this, she was drawn here.”

My son stood near the hallway, his sketchpad now discarded. He was quietly peeling photos from an old family album we found on the bookshelf—removing faces carefully, methodically.

“He does that when people die,” I murmured, watching him. Then, almost without thinking, I asked, “Will you do that when I die?”

He didn’t answer. Just kept peeling.

From the far room, Katy appeared—my old friend. Her sister behind her, silent and pale, like a faded memory that had walked back into the light. They didn't speak. Just looked toward the hallway.

The woman turned to the window. The view was breathtaking—like we were no longer in a city but somewhere above it all, watching from another realm. She sighed, “It really is so nice here.”

Then, quieter, she added, “Though some say it’s haunted.”

This is a Story created in my Dreams

Why Writing Your Emotions During a Dream Matters

 

When recording a dream, most people focus on what happened — the people, places, and events. But the real key to understanding your dreams lies in how you felt during each part.

Emotions are the bridge between the dream and your waking life. They give context and meaning to the symbols. For example, a dream about driving in the dark might seem scary — but if you felt calm or even happy, that changes the interpretation entirely. It could suggest trust, faith, or personal growth rather than fear or danger.

By noting your emotions scene by scene, you begin to see what your subconscious is really responding to — not just the imagery, but the feeling states tied to your inner world. Those emotions often reflect your current challenges, desires, or unresolved thoughts more than the symbols alone ever could.

Tip: When journaling, pause after each major scene and ask, “How did I feel right here?” That emotional map is often the clearest guide to what your dream is trying to tell you. I’m sharing a dream and its interpretation today to highlight the powerful role emotions play when you take the time to record them.

The Dream:

I was driving a car, and my husband was the passenger. I said proudly, "Look at me, I drove on two freeways," and it was a good feeling. And then everything went dark — like no light, total darkness — and I continued to drive happily but couldn't see anything. My husband grabbed the wheel and steered us into a parking lot. I thought, How does he know he won't hit the car in front of us when we can't see?

Somehow we made it and got out and went into a strip mall store or some sort of space office — not sure. We passed through rooms that were lit, and I saw two couches. We passed them, and I ended up on a patio. It was dark outside, like night, and four men were sitting at a table.

I went to sit on an end table, but it had a bunch of things on it, including an empty wine glass. I felt very awkward as I tried to sit but didn't. Then I saw a little dog — he was white with brown spots, a small dog. I pet him, and he was friendly. It felt nice.

My cat Gemini came up and smacked him in the face, and then the dog smacked her back. I said to the men, "Did you see that? The cat smacked the dog, and the dog smacked her back. That is odd, but fair play." The one man sort of looked in my direction but said nothing.

Then I said to him, "Do you see that black cat? It has very long claws." And he ignored me, and I felt like... why?

What I take from this dream:

Reflecting on this dream, I can’t help but feel it mirrors moments in my waking life — times when I’m proud of how far I’ve come, only to be plunged into uncertainty or doubt. The darkness while driving felt symbolic of navigating unknown territory, yet I didn’t panic. That says something about my inner trust. Still, when someone else took control, even with good intentions, it left me questioning the outcome. And then, that strange interaction on the patio — being ignored, feeling unseen — hit something deeper. I wonder how often I speak my truth or share something real, only to be met with silence. Maybe the dream is asking me to look at where I still seek validation, or where I need to honor myself even when others don’t respond. And maybe — just maybe — the little dog, the cat fight, and that fair play moment was a reminder that even in unexpected conflicts, balance finds a way.

Your assignment: When you write down your dream, be sure to document your emotions throughout. Even just one word — confused, peaceful, scared, excited — can open the door to a much deeper interpretation.

Happy Dreaming

Deedee