Dream: Rococo Vintage Under Victorian Charm

I've been sleeping solidly but in odd dream modes of late. Dreams are long and stylised with Period themes. One was 70's C grade crime thriller and the most recent was endowed with interior designed inspired by the rococo period. The 70 crime thriller was comedic. The rococo influenced imagery was more super-wonderful. It was one of those dreams that has lasting and lingering sensations that carry through to the following days, without intention. It was a beautiful and powerful series of findings punctuated with exclamation marks.

The rococo dream was about G, the prolific sewer of Los and Dinny fame, another Lonnie lass who blogs.

Dream Went Like So:
G was in Melbourne and she and her husband had just bought a new home here on the island. She called me up and asked me if I'd go over to check out the builders to be sure that they were all ok. G wasn't concerned. The home was a Victorian terrace house, single fronted and in dire need of renovation. She had told me that they were replacing the plaster in the house first becasue they were in Melbourne and it seemed like good timing.

I went to the site. There was fine white powder all over from the plaster demolition. It made the room seem etherial. The builders were chubby bellied and thick fingered, with attitudes to match. I do remember they were kind men. The foreman had curly hair and a pink ending to his nose.

Said pink nosed man was battering away at the wall next to the fire place. There was a hole in the wall. I asked him to stop for a moment because I could see a small slab of highly ornate plaster work showing through under the plaster that was being pulled away. My curiosity was urged on so I asked him to stop, though I felt inappropriate. I made like an archaeologist and took a fine brush in my hand to clear the section. A breath took me by surprise as my eyes saw that the ornate shape was in fact of gold leaf. I asked Pink Nose to help me carefully remove more of the Victorian lathe and plaster. Time passed and we removed it all to reveal the most incredible under layer of gold and marble rococo style forms and fittings. It was so ornate that it made me feel nauseous: gold, marble, bold, organic.

I went round the house to help the builders remove the old Victorian and unearth the once-rococo. It was captivating and very over the top stuff to look at.

I drove to the city council to find out who had owned the property. I had an underlying worry that I couldn't get in contact with G to tell her what had been found. I was worried because I knew rococo wasn't her taste. I had the information about the previous owners in a scroll under my arm for later reading and zoomed back to G's odd new home.

As we dug and brushed we found furniture, rooms of it, further under & inside the depths of the walls. It was beautiful antique furniture; cupboards, book shelves, chairs - a wealth of remnants from time past. But I worried further because it was not G's taste. I was consoled because Pink Nose reminded me that G (and D, her architecture student hubby, in real life) could sell the found wares to pay for the extra costs I'd incurred for transforming the building site into an archaeological site instead of its original bog-standard reno job. On his incite, we continued the treasure hunt.

Next, we found more furniture which slowly moved forward through time stylistically. It became less ornate. Ultimately the finds seemed to level out at original beautiful plain lined 50's furnishings.

G would be happier with this stuff. My mind relaxed.

The last item found, amongst the white dust within the walls and from under a floor was a beautiful oak ladies closet. Slowly I approached it and turned the rusted key. As the door of the closet opened, it was as if birds began to sing in the moment I noticed that a lifetime's collection of hand made 5o's and 60's dresses were hanging in front of me, all in perfect condition. G will be pleased now, I thought. I'd struck her proverbial mother-load.

The original owner had been an eccentric and talented seamstress who had only ever made her own fabulous clothes. The rococo design of the interior was something that she too had fashioned by hand and her own will. The woman had been high society and entertained her guests in her various parlours in whatever party theme her taste decided. She was a spinster with big hair and long painted nails: she was Miss Somebody.

I made the call to G. She hurried on the next plane, ready to collect her bootie.