Every day, on my commute home, I pass a house. Two stories, fairly new. Light-colored masonery/brick, skylights, and a light-colored interior, from what I can tell.
I’ve never been in this house before. Pass it five days a week.
Yet, I’ve been in it.
I’ve had several dreams about a house–light-colored, lots of glass and skylights, modern yet tacky statues and decor. From what I can tell as I zoom by in my waking life, that house matches the house in my dreams.
Why this house? I don’t know. The dreams are nondescript, except for the house.
Why this house?