I daydream about homes.

Flats to be specific. I imagine wooden floors, large windows with white voile and window seats.
There's always bookshelves in these dreams, sometimes they're built into the wall, sometimes they're just attached like normal shelves and sometimes they're the wooden one's I had when I was a kid, taken down from the loft and given to me for my hundreds of reads to finally get out of the boxes they've been in for nearly a year.

I dream about big beds, and pillows - lots of pillows. And cupboards with my clothes. Hanging up, and not in bags on the floor or in the corner. My postcards, posters and keepsakes cover the walls, next to my beautiful silver mirror. And I have a desk. And actual desk, to sit at, and work/draw.. whatever I feel like. With space on the wall around it to hang pictures up while I paint them.

My bathroom has my favourite smelling moisturisers and candles in it. My kitchen has my cooking utensils out and used for the first time in 15 months. The scales my best friend got me two years ago, used to make cakes for when people come visit.

No more moving around, no more sharing everything, no more creeping around on eggshells constantly for being in other peoples homes. Freedom, and yet.. stability. And security.

I'm sure I'll spend the first few days in this dream house naked, eating chips and cake, whilst watching Desperate Housewives and Dexter without a single complaint.

I like these daydreams the most.