It had just snowed a foot despite it being May, and I trudged through the snow from my temple. I snuck into Olcott House, the bed and breakfast where my boyfriend and I spent our anniversary. There were dishes of pecan ice cream on the table, and I started grabbing gobs of it with my fingers, thinking it would go to waste otherwise.
The house’s owner happened upon me and asked me what I was doing there. “I just love it here so much,” I told him. He laughed good-naturedly and told me it was time for me to go on home.
A few nights ago I had another dream I was at the Olcott House. I stopped in randomly and asked them if they had any openings for the night. The owner told me they actually didn’t have anyone staying in the entire house. In that case, I asked if I could stay in the master bedroom even though I had paid for one of the smaller ones. He said I couldn’t even look in the other bedrooms, much less go in them.
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