My blogger friend Susan invited comments on the rooms we frequent in our minds. Rooms are something one goes back to in dreams – my dreams are always peopled by rooms with much used , much loved familiar furniture . One piece of furniture that used to haunt me regularly was a huge sideboard that my parents used – with a wide middle cupboard flanked by two narrow ones with glass and wooden fronted doors and a glass covered bar on top , the side of which comes down on 2 hinges . Typically though the sideboard was always used for books in my parents’ home – and the top always had pieces of various bric a brac that Baba collected .

For days after Ma’s effects were dismantled and distributed after her death , the cupboard continued to haunt my dreams while it lived in a flat my father in law has in another part of the city . And bleak awful dreams filled with dread where we lived in huge cavernous dark houses on the fringes of dark , marshy fields that stretched over distances and which always made me wake up drenched in cold sweat.

Till I brought it to our house and filled it up . The 1950s editions of Woman and Home went in the middle to give the old cupboard some comfort with old friends ; albums and other newer books went in; my glassware went on both sides , whisky tumblers and glasses went into the bar . With all the comfortable hotch potch of a running family , the cupboard appears to be at peace now .. so does my psyche because it does not plague me with cupboards floating in space


Anonymous said...

Glad you and the sideboard are at peace. I hadn't thought about the idea of rooms in my mind, but your post makes me wonder about that.

I don't remember my dreams so vividly, but I'll give some thought to the notion of mental rooms.

Anonymous said...

I can imagine it must be very happy at your place. Your 1950s editions of Woman & Home call out to me!

Anonymous said...

Sometimes things are all that remain of a wonderful childhood. I remember when my mother died and I, similarly, had to give away all that we could not ourselves keep. Every little thing that she had cherished, every little thing that had some memory or the other attached to it- comes back to haunt me. I had to wrap up her household all by myself and it left scars on my soul that would never heal. Take care of that cupboard. It needs you just as much as you need it. Love your blog.

Unknown said...

@sonnjea-worth thinking about - you can also analyse why the room has to be just so

@susan - yep - they're lovely - great recipes , very elaborate and a lot of Cecil beaton photographs , old film stars and they are all falling to pieces

@cadmium - my younger sister did that - I think it was a cathartic act because she was so much my mother's little girl ;but yes , looking back , when all that connected you to your childhood disappears - memories can be sad - incidentally why is your blog inaccessible - what is your blog name ?

Dotm said...

Nice owning a part of your memories that remind you of your Mom. My bro lives in the home place and there was this long stand that had always been in my parents home. Not sure of it`s history, just that my mom would never part with it and my dad once made new leg supports for it. He might have origionally made it, or it could have belonged to one of their parent, I will never know- wish I had asked. My bro was talking of tossing it out. So, even though I had no room for it , I still couldn`t see it tossed out. So, I took it apart so I could close it into a smaller place and stored it in my attic. I wonder if someday one of my children might have memories of seeing their school pictures sitting on that stand at their gram and gramps home. Wonder if they will be able to just toss it.

Anonymous said...

hey--nothing to do with this post, but as I said in a mail to you, if you give me your address, I'll send you a packet of the appam mix. It comes out real well

Molly Malone said...

i love your cupboard. i'm glad you made peace with it.

i also love the idea of rooms in one's mind. i've never really thought about it.

Anonymous said...

Good Job!