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I dreamed that I was about to make a post about where I lived when I worked in the city: a white camper my dad built around 1979. The photos showed it set up out behind a shopping mall. It had no windows except on the door. It had a skylight sort of thing that could be cranked open for ventilation.

Inside was a tiny stove with two burners, a double bed in the part that sat atop the cab of the truck, and a bed over the table that folded up during meals. There was a toilet but no plumbing. In another photo was a bottle of Crown Royal next to the stove.

I woke up when my alarm went off. For a bit, I thought the dream was true. The camper was real. I lived in it for a while with my parents, sister, dog, and cat. The photos were not real. And I haven't seen that camper since I was nine or ten years old and we moved into a 31' travel trailer instead.

To this day, I get the horrors thinking about living in such a tiny place with my loud family. Cabin fever is real. There's no privacy inside tiny homes. I finally got my own bed and own bedroom with a door when I was almost fifteen years old. #dream #DreamLog #GrowingUpPoor