Dream Part II - sorry long post
At this point I decided to start digging through “their” rooms, and felt like an intruder although this was my home. Even their rooms had the mass quantity of textiles piled up all over. I was nervous about nosing through their stuff. I found the daughter’s very outdated tablet / computer and was trying to see what it said on the screen but couldn’t read fast enough or slow my brain down enough to absorb the words. Next to that device I noticed two hand written lists – sets of instructions. One set on the left were for the daughter, the one on the right for the mother. The mother’s list was something akin to a timeline of when to do what, one thing said something about wait until the last day before (complying?) as in what a tenant would do the last day before an eviction were to take place (move out?, act?) – not sure what all the words were. Then I started going through the mother’s computer, which was also older but not as outdated as the daughter’s. I don’t know exactly what I saw but whatever it was made me realize they were trying to steal our home. They were going to try to show somehow that this was their house and take ownership through “squatting” first as well as recorded documents would prove they had ownership from many years prior. One item was pre-dated and it was completely bogus. They were stealing our home using legal documents that were faked.
I found the mother sitting in a nook typing away on an ancient typewriter – something from the early days of typewriters. She was completing a legal document – pre-dated to many years prior – she was trying to make up a false document and didn’t want computer time stamps showing when the document was actually created. I politely stated something like, “Oh that’s a very old typewriter! Why are you using that old thing?” she just smiled serenely and kept on typing. I tried to grab the typewriting ribbon out of the machine so I would have proof.
My husband and I were going through all of our old files trying to find something (old deeds?) to help prove our case and protect ourselves.
I was outside the home in what seemed like a wide corridor and the door to our home was open. There were a couple of old-style children’s desks that had been in the two bedrooms, piled with clothing and comfy blankets and other things from the rooms – out in this corridor. Moving men were there with big heavy, beautiful desks on a hand-truck. They were in the process of moving this into our home. “Stop! Wait a minute – what are you doing? You can’t do that!” I exclaimed. The daughter was behind me and the moving men, the woman came out the front door and said to me, “Don’t worry, we’ll put all this back in a few minutes. We just needed to move them out of the way while we bring in this (furniture? desks?) . We’ll put it all back, it’s alright, don’t worry,” said calmly with that serene smile.
I suddenly thought, they are both outside of the house! Quick – go inside and shut the door and lock them out! Hurry! We have to lock the door! We stood just inside the door, panting from the adrenaline and trying to think think think what do we do now?? Keep them out, that was primary! But then we realized, they have the Key and could come back in anytime they wanted to.
Later we were all in the kitchen. The daughter was preparing a meal and the mother was welcoming a guest, a younger female, a friend of the daughter. She introduced us to her and said her name was Sarah. Somehow I knew her name was spelled with an “h” at the end, not Sara. I said, “So, Sarah, when did they tell you they moved here?” I was trying to get on record the date to prove that these women were newly arrived and not longtime residents, as we knew they were trying to establish that this was their home even if by simply “squatting.” “Oh I was not told that (they moved in? lived here?)”
As I was having the conversation with Sarah, I looked to see what the daughter was cooking. I saw a tray of spices that weren’t mine, dark red like paprika and others. These had been brought in by the mother and daughter. I saw very strange labels like red something, one had the word “Blood” in large italic print on the label. Other labels were equally creepy and disturbing, I just can’t remember what they said. The daughter was using one then another to spice up the dish, which had the appearance of scrambled eggs with bits of green bell pepper and meat chopped up into it – and she was stirring this in a frying pan. As I was realizing the horrible spices I tried to dismantle the recipe – wreck it by taking over the spatula and disturbing the dish, pouring it into the casserole dish before it was done. It was nearly complete though and the mother and daughter didn’t seem upset – they just smiled serenely at each other as the dish was just a little undercooked.