I’m in a house with a long hallway.
It’s the house of Judy, the abusive roommate I just moved away from, literally, only, typical of dreams, it looks nothing like her actual house.
I’m walking down the hallway. There’s one vacant bedroom to my right.
I’m surprised she doesn’t rent it out, knowing the financial benefit. It’s large and offers privacy and distance from the other three bedrooms concentrated at the end of the hallway.
I arrive at the end of the hallway where the bedrooms are. Judy is momentarily away from the house, though her presence is still very, very prevalent. I feel relief. Pronounced relief. Some space and gladness she’s away. It brings quietude — as well as a sense of safety from her aggression and attacks.
When I awaken from this dream, I feel I’ve been in Judy’s house rather than mine (solo in my studio!). Clearly still processing the trauma of what transpired there. The aggression and stultifying oppression and anger and loudness and control, control, control that reached an apex with assault and battery. That’s all I can say.