The Flood Dream

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The house was destroyed. My parent’s home was in ruins, all thanks to the flood. The floorboards were soggy and unpredictable, the wallpaper was destroyed, but worst of all we were homeless and had no belongings to speak of.
Luckily, we had a team already helping us sort our house out – like a DIY SOS kind of team. Because the strange thing was, our house was the only place hit by the flood.
I was there when they began renovating. They were clearly doing a half-ass job of it. They were stripping the wallpaper and redecorating… but not really making it structurally sound or repairing the house. I walked carefully up the squishy stairs to my room. It had been beautifully redecorated not long before the flood, and now they’d taken all that away. Now it was wallpapered in boring cream patterns, and it just wasn’t my room. I wasn’t even sure my room had been that affected by the water.
Well, the floorboards sure had. I felt them giving way a little with each step I took. I looked through all my drawers, and surprisingly most of my clothes were in tact. I asked one of the painters if my laptop had survived. He shook his head. My keyboard hadn’t made it either.
At least I still had clothes, right?
I went back downstairs to the kitchen. Most of it had been stripped away and replaced with cheap stuff, but our oven was the same. I opened it and shoved some food in. I was starving. We sat around the kitchen table to discuss the renovations for a while. Ten minutes passed, and I opened the oven to check on the food.
Water gushed out like a miniature waterfall. The water was warm so the oven was at least doing some part of its job. Within seconds the entire kitchen was flooded again.
Oops.

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