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I dreamed I was living in the wrong house
it wasn’t a friendly place
it was on a barren hill
I dreamed another dream about another wrong house
the street was lined with rotting houses
a few exteriors were being owner-repaired
our house at the end of the street had scaffolding 
a bird flew inside my shirt 
I told my children that insects are biting inside my shirt 
agitation awakened me
I looked to the windows and recognized with relief
our house on Berkeley Street.