Reading Fred’s post from earlier this week, I feel a little sad. We did make an offer on a beautiful little house–in a very expensive neighborhood. But the night after we signed the contract–I burst into tears when the agent brought it in–I dreamed that I was in an airplane, ready to take off on a trip to Paris, its back wheels perched on the edge of a cliff. I was sitting in the back, facing toward a beautiful picture window along the back of the plane. (You find this in all nice airplanes, of course).

The plane made several 360 degree turns in preparation for takeoff, as good dream planes do. It spun one last time and backed up just a little in preparation to fly us away. But the pilot had miscalculated. The back wheels bumped just a little over the edge of the cliff. I knew it was all over. My stomach hit the floor as the plane tipped over backwards, nose in the air. Suddenly I was staring at the bottom of the cliff through the picture window, and we plunged to the ground.

We hit the ground, everything went dark, and I woke up. I guess the good news is that the old myth about falling in dreams is not true. If you hit the ground, you won’t die.

So what has happened? I let myself get caught up in the classic buyer’s mistake–wanting the house too badly. I suspect we talked ourselves into (or I talked Fred into) conceding too much to get the house. On top of that, the timing may not be right for us since we have yet to sell our house in the ATL.

Luckily the agent had not yet submitted the contract to the seller, so we have a little time to think. We’ve called an appraiser and are paying him $400 for my peace of mind.

I am going to cook today, on the first rainy Saturday we’ve had in ages, and will post results.