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THE DREAM JOURNAL
OF L. CARUANA


THE HOUSE OF THREE WINDOWS
Toronto, December 18, 1988

      At the time of this dream, I was studying German and Greek Philosophy at the University of Toronto. I was unsure if I should go on to do graduate studies in Philosophy, or turn all my energies towards painting.

      I dreamt I was in Malta, in the village where my father comes from. I was walking up triq il-Parocca to the house where my father was born. All the houses on this street were closed up, their wooden shutters drawn. The village seemed abandoned. I came to my father’s childhood home, and there – in contrast to the other houses – all was open and brimming with activity. In particular, a trinity of windows on the top floor blazed with light. (In reality, this house has only two windows. The three windows were very reminiscent of the trinity of windows atop the door of my own childhood home, which I remembered so vividly as a child).
      The brimming activity in the house was due to an auction, where all the family belongings were being sold off. None of my family were there, and the auction was organized by Germans. I spoke to one of the organizers in German, and he told me that some items would be auctioned, others could be put aside and purchased later. I felt that I must gather up as many hierlooms as possible, to preserve something from our family’s past. There were jewels, rugs, furniture, tools. I gathered them all together. Then, figuring that all of these were rightfully mine anyway, I tried to walk out with the lot. But a clerk stopped me, asking me to produce a receipt. I called his attention to another clerk and, through a ruse, sent him off in search of the slip while I escaped with the goods.
      Once out on the street, I examined what I was able to preserve from our family’s past. Most prominant among them were a set of handtools
(which, in reality, my father had used to make his living, and which he had given to me one day). Out in the street, I suddenly heard a disembodied voice – that of my father’s – who asked me ‘what do you plan to do with your life?’ Looking at the handtools, I replied ‘I’ll make a living with the skills I possess’. And so, confidently, I walked on.

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