Each time she woke up, she felt nostalgic for the house of her dreams. That house was never a conscious choice. It seemed though, as if it had been there expecting her. Whenever in doubt or in discomfort, she remembered the forgotten rooms. From time to time, she even discovered new rooms, although after waking up, she usually realized that she had been there before, that they were part of the forgotten kingdom.
Once she permanently moved in, she spent most of her time in the basement. She felt like experiencing childhood again. Every once in a while, she went up to the ground floor and sat on the porch for some fresh air. The attic caught her eye every now and then, but it took some time before she decided to visit.
It proved a difficult task, though. Either the stairs were too steep, or the barriers were insuperable. There stood a guard who did not let her go upstairs. The guard was never talkative and didn’t even notice her attempts to seduce him.
She became frustrated little by little, as all her efforts proved fruitless; her beautiful dresses, her sophisticated makeup, her pretentious walk, did not work. She even used tears, a weapon she knew her husband in real life could never resist, yet the guard stood upright, seemingly impervious to the show she had carefully prepared.
Many attempts later, the stairs did not seem that steep any more and the obstacles vanished.
Opening the door of the attic, she found herself in her old house, the one she shared with her husband for many years.
I’m back, she thought in excitement, feeling for the first time in years, that this house might fit her as well, and that reality did not seem so unbearable any more.
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