The Junk Room

In the house that I grew up in we had what we called "the junk room." This room contained all kinds of stuff. Both forgotten and not. I used to want to go through everything in there but was forbidden. Understandably so. Today, that room haunts me. It's really odd. I have weird dreams about that room. The most recent dream was that I needed to go to the house and get something and there was a small baby boy crying in that room. I was afraid to touch him because I knew that I would want to keep him if I did. And sometimes when I'm not thinking of anything in particular an image of that room and what it used to look like will just pop up into my head. The room no longer exists, in fact, the whole house doesn't exist anymore. Did I leave something in that room? I don't know. Is it just that it was forbidden? It wasn't always. It used to be our living room. We moved from that house when I was a senior in high school. I didn't want to move. I grieved that house. It was built in 19oo and something. By bedroom was 15 X 15 with 12 foot ceilings. The hallway was 9 feet wide and 30 feet long. It had hard wood floors and fire places in all 4 of the front rooms. The porch was deep and stretched across the entire front of the house. The attic was extremely interesting to me. I was never allowed to go up there but I would sneak up there and pretend that it was my room. But that front room to the left as you walked into the house is what I think of most. I'm sure somewhere deep in my sub-conscience I may have left some sort of childhood memory that I'm trying to get back or re-create. Isn't that how psychology works? Maybe it's just that I feel that I have a lot of junk (figuratively and literally) that I need to clear out. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll figure it out.