Dream Home

“Ah, my dream home. Well, for starters it would be self cleaning.” She smiled at the realtor, who was laughing at her statement.

“Okay, how about easy to clean?” she amended. “That means smallish, no stairs, no carpeting.”

She pointed to a house on the realtor’s iPad. “That house, for example, has a big yard. I don’t want any yard. No outside maintenance at all.”

“How about a condo?” the realtor asked.

Please use the open space below to share your first 50 words on the topic “dream home.”

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Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

8 thoughts on “Dream Home”

  1. My dream home would be a condo…I don’t do yard maintenance, I don’t want stairs, I don’t need 8 bedrooms for just me. The cleaning lady would come once a week, the building would be close to transportation, the neighbors would mind their own business.

  2. My dream home would be a house with a bit of history behind it and a small yard. A few bedrooms with a couple of bathrooms and a drive away. Maybe near a park or a forest so that I don’t have to go to far to walk the dog.

  3. My dream home is a u-shaped hacienda style place with a chef’s kitchen overlooking some cliff, but not near enough to slide off during a major quake. Enchanting open courtyard with water feature. Sunlight slips into the house at every angle. Heat, air and music come on intuitively to please.

  4. Home doesn’t equal house. Home is made of humans: our lives, emotions, values, relationships, world visions, strengths and weaknesses (physical as well as spiritual), economic security, independence or the lack thereof and so on. There is no such thing as a “dream home.” There is only a reality home no matter how it’s constructed and in what milieu it can be found. Dreams can be ideals or they can be nightmares. One thing they are not – is real. To design an ideal, not dream home, one has to rely on intangibles.

  5. A lot of people believe that their dream home is one of those mansions with everything the heart could desire. Large rooms, built in wardrobes, huge kitchen, separate dining room, a large block of land with, perhaps, a rose garden.
    To me a dream home is where my mother and father do not constantly fight, my brother and sister actually speak to each other, and everyone can sit at the table and have a pleasant conversation.
    My dream home? A happy family.

  6. Dream home? What’s that? A condo, a apartment, a mansion? No, those are dreams houses. A home is a place in which you are loved, a place you feel safe and happy, a place…where you belong. Home is where the heart is. My dream home is nothing like anyones dream home, probably because I’m not like most people. My dream home is anywhere and everywhere I am loved and treated right, and where I feel like I belong. A dream home isn’t a house, but those you share it with.

  7. My dream home would have to be a mud-walled thatched hut by the sea-side . Derelict enough to repel unwanted attention, but with all the amenities , that i can think of . Not over the top, but just right. An almirah full of books that i need to read. A small kitchen and a boat to venture out when I feel like it. To live alone and be one with the nature , before one’s “time comes.”

  8. I’m in sync with everyone who thinks of dream home being dependent on family and I guess warmth of relationships. My dream home was my grandparents’ home where, on Sundays, you could always smell something delicious cooking and baking in the kitchen. The huge mahogany dining room table was always set with their Sunday best china and silver. Music played softly in the background. The kitchen was tiny and you could hear the two aunts, your mom, and grandma talking and laughing as they jostled for space in that steamy room. People were always stopping by. Knock-knock and in they would come with much hugging and laughter. “Come in, come in. There’s plenty of food. What would you like to drink? Come sit down in the dining room.” The entry was somewhat like a revolving door: people would come in and others would be leaving. Lots of laughter and good stories were shared. We kids always thought it was pretty special to be able to have a glass of ginger ale “on the rocks.” We felt grownup and a part of the convivial group.

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