Dream archetypes

I have a place I've visited a lot in my dreams over the years. It's a large, ramshackle building built on pilings over the sea shore. I'm sure it borrows heavily from my childhood, especially the ANB Hall on Katlian St. It's a place of pride and history, if anyone's interested in reading about it... but I digress. My building is less kept-up - the paint has long since worn off if it ever existed, the building is as empty of divisions as a warehouse, and you can see the rocks and water below you through cracks between the floorboards. But the scale is easily as massive, and the place is full of the same warm old-wood-house smell: a mix of benevolent decay, aging finish, and the occasional hint of creosote from the pilings beneath.

Standing in my dream-building and looking at the sea through the huge glassless windows gives me a thrill of danger for standing on possibly unstable footing, but also a deep sense of belonging and familiarity. There's a house on 101 near Hoodsport that jarringly reminds me of it every time we drive south that way, and I guess it got me last weekend, too. I stood in the building again last night, the setting sun shone in my eyes through the windows, the air was dusty and salty-clean at the same time. Today I keep catching myself missing it.