Hill Street Blues

My spouse and I were both in grad school when we bought our first house for $26,000. Yes, you read right. 211 East Hill Street, just on the "wrong" side of University Avenue, within easy walking distance of the train station and downtown. The bank wouldn't loan us the money because it was too little to bother. We ended up borrowing from family and buying the house cash. We paid it off in 4 years on grad-student incomes. Gotta love it.

It was a simple two story, 1500 sq ft house. We spent 10 years fixing it: rewiring, finishing the floors, replacing the roof, painting, replacing windows, water heaters. Most of it with our own two hands. We loved that house. When we finally graduated and moved, we were traumatized by the loss of our house.

For years after moving, and up till now, 10 years later, my spouse and I periodically share exactly the same dream, a couple times it even happened on the same night. Here's the dream:

We go back to the house. The new owners are out. We sneak in, often go to bed, then realize that it isn't our house anymore. Sometimes there is a reason why it's ok for us to be there, sometimes we talk to them, but usually we end up sneaking out the back door as they come in the front door. It's exactly the same dream every time, for both of us. We call it our "Champaign dream", so named for the town we lived in.

At first is was an unpleasant dream, always leaving us somewhat disturbed. Now it is a happy reminder of a place we loved, where we had friends, life was simpler and we were happy. Well that's what I remember at least.

Freaking weird isn't it?

Happy dreams, y'all.