Unholy Moley Mr. Crowley!

The first abandoned house I remember exploring was in Kahala. It was the summer of my 17th year - readying to leave for college - and I was living with my parents friends near the beach. Carolyn knocked on my door one morning and matter of factly said, "Get dressed. A wrecking ball is coming tomorrow. The neighbors are dead and they're house is abandoned. Let's go look inside."

Ever since, I've been fascinated with people's homes - of those both living and dead. You can't know a person unless you've experienced their home. It's their most intimate dwelling besides their person. A home reflects your soul, your life, your materialism, your sense of balance and space, the colors and textures that comfort you...



So here I am in Sicily's Cefalu in another abandoned home. We've wiggled our way thru an open window and Pat asks me to open the refrigerator and feign interest for a photo. And it triggered a dream memory.

It the late 90s, I was living in a rented apartment over a garage in Makiki up in mango tree and was having intense dreams. A friend slept in my bed in my absence as I was in New York on business. A very spiritual Hawaiian, he too was troubled by dreams and believed that my sliding mirrored closet door was a portal - inviting spirits in the bedroom that were disturbing sleep. I'm not sure if that's here nor there but funny that both of us would experience outrageous dreams!

One of my dreams felt so profound I recorded it on paper and dug it out from an old journal this weekend. It involved a Jim Morrison-like resident of an abandoned house, a rotten refrigerator, and an ailing parrot. An interesting medley of symbolism and reality. There is no doubt in my mind that this is the house I dreamed of in 1998. I can tell you about it sometime...