Jenny Hogarth, Anna Mud and Rémie Vanderhaegen
He dreamt about spare rooms. The height, length and width of them. Whether they might be warm or wet. He dreamt about ceilings, floors, what might be revealed underneath the carpet. In the dreams the rooms were white. He always walked around them in a little circle, pausing to look at each wall. There was never any furniture, but sometimes, if there was a window, sunlight shimmered through.
When awake he lived in un-spare rooms. Most made him anxious. The things within them changed frequently. Bikes, heat, washing, boxes and flatmates moved in and out. He constantly speculated at what the future might hold. It was difficult to anticipate what he might need.
Looking at pictures of things people had made was of great interest to him. It calmed him and was part of the reason he liked spare rooms and dreamt about them. Some things he never could have imagined himself. He visualised how these things might fill the spare room, where they might sit together and why. In real-life, spare room clearly labelled as such was done so with an attention that suggested occupied rather than available. Definitions of spare, he realised, must be different for different people. This spareness was very much thought about and calculated.
He longed for the simplicity of sleep. Although, he was getting better at ignoring things. Perhaps it was best to be ambivalent, or acclimatised, when awake anyway. It was much easier to have tolerable standards than to dream something new completely.