I dreamt I was home at my childhood home. I saw that a couple were walking through the property at the base of the steps where I used to eat pomegranates and spit out the seeds. I went up to them and told them they were walking through our property and should leave. But a short while later (or perhaps even as I turned back to the patio, the property was filled with people. These were not sinister people, nor apparently homeless, but they were people who had decided that being on our property was a good thing. There was a man with a dromedary camel, there were young people and older. Some may have been indigent. I even saw that out near the corral, there were a few small tables and people gathered as though it were a cafe. In exasperation I told them I was calling the police. I fumbled with my phone and had to go inside so Maya could help me dial 911. In time a single policeman arrived and he and I walked around together, rousting people and telling them they had to leave. By now the camel was in a makeshift stall in the garage. The garage was further equipped with small lofted rooms, each of which contained sleeping or resting people. I did get mad at one man for smoking. When the policeman and I went back out to the patio, I saw that the windows had all been covered with burlap or thatch in an effort, I suppose, to protect our privacy. Although a moment later those coverings were gone, as though my dream author decided that was a bad move and edited them. Gradually we seemed to get most of the people to move on, though the policeman and I agreed that they would probably be back. I remember walking up the steps toward the dichondra lawn and the patio. The tree that my parents had planted when we first moved there
