Last night I dreamt that I was in my old bedroom, the one I had when I lived at home with my parents. I spent a lot of years in that room. One Christmas my dad bought me a large rug/carpet I could put down in it. On Christmas morning we unrolled the blue/gray roll from one wall to the next, like we were unpeeling a life-sized Tootsie roll. I remember the smell too – carpet. How do you explain that? It still had that factory-cloth-rugged smell. The carpet’s texture was thick and tough. It didn’t cover the entire room wall to wall but was enough to go a little under my large metal desk and partially beneath my bed frame. It made my room a little more cozy.

My room wasn’t huge. I’m guessing it was probably comparable to my peers’ bedrooms in terms of size. Tara Sherwin’s room was bigger, but so was her house. Elizabeth Dolson’s room was probably the same size, just with more nooks and crannies. I think Elizabeth Kelly’s room was smaller. She had a wall that was a chalkboard. It was pretty cool. Kelley Davis’ room was smaller too. Jillian Slater’s bedroom may have been the same size or a little smaller. Kelly Conrad’s room was about the same size. Her room was over the garage.

You can tell a lot about someone by their bedroom. It’s an expression of who they are. There’s especially something very intriguing about seeing a friend’s room. It’s like they’re really welcoming you into their life. I’m being completely innocent here. I’m talking young kids who are friends. Sleepovers. Good memories.

There was something especially intriguing about seeing a male friend’s bedroom. I remember in 8^th grade a group of us went over to a classmate’s house, I think with a teacher, to visit Daniel Mueller after he’d had knee surgery. He laid on the lower bunk of the wooden bunk beds with his leg stretched out and a little automated machine clamped around his knee, moving back and forth in extension and flexion. I remember thinking it must have been painful. Interestingly, he had a poster of Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen (back when they were young and in TV shows). I figured Daniel probably shared that room with his younger brother Lucas.

I also got to see Josh Pine’s room. He was one of the cool kids. It was in high school when some of us went to visit him. I can’t remember what the occasion was; I think he’d been sick. We climbed the stairs and saw him briefly in his room. He had a framed photo of Amanda Roberts, who is now his wife and who I always thought was really pretty (and had a great personality). Josh Pine was cool. He surfed, lived in Virginia Beach, played guitar, and was really smart. He was one of those kids that could wait until the last minute to write a paper and bust out an A+ quality essay in no time. Daniel Mueller was the same. It took me weeks of work to earn a low A/high B.

The kids who lived in Virginia Beach almost seemed to have cooler rooms or more mystifying rooms. Ashley James had a small room upstairs. It had one window and adjacent to it was her desk, covered in books and papers, which were loaded with her hard-pressed, bubbly handwriting that would sink into the pages of her textbooks. She’d use the cracked open books as something to bear down on while writing. Her studying paid off. She got into one of the state’s prestigious colleges.

Shannon Rawls’ room in Virginia Beach was upstairs and at the back of the house, so we could look out the windows and see her backyard and the lake behind it. Her room was carpeted. She had bunk beds, which I always thought were so cool. We both shared a love of animals, stuffed and real.

Sarah Smith’s room, also in Virginia Beach, seemed dark and cluttered to me. She had a large bed that was centered in the room. Her closet had one of those slide-doors. She had lots of clothes. Her bedroom sort of screamed busy life, like she only used it for sleep and getting dressed. She was busy. But I guess that was the life of private school kids whose parents pushed them to achieve and go far in life. Ashley James’ room also gave me the impression that she didn’t spend much time there. You could look around and catch a glimpse of the friend’s extracurricular activities: soccer cleats in the corner, leotard on a hanger, basketball trophy on the shelf.

Looking back, Kelly Conrad’s bedroom was my favorite. It’s also the most recent, as we had sleepovers up until ages 19 and 20 or so. As I said earlier, her room was above the garage. She lived in Norfolk. Her room would be cold in the winter. I remember that. We’d often share her twin bed when we finally fell asleep, she at one end and me at the other, both of us buried under a mountain of comforters. She had a picture of Toby Mac on her wall. And she had a keyboard, as she played in church. The room was entirely carpeted. There were two big windows. One looked over at the neighbor’s house and one looked out into the street. She had a nice small closet where church clothes hung and t-shirts were folded up neatly on the top shelf. We used to sprawl out on the carpeted floor and watch movies on her laptop. Oh, and it was cool that Kelly had two or three small steps that descended into her room from the wood-floored hallway. Traversing those steps was like going into another world – one of fun, friendship, and teenage secrets.

Kelly’s older sister Whitney stayed just down the hall in her own room. That room was small and just had a little twin bed, a desk/table where she’d sit to put on her make-up and do her hair. She had a closet too. Across from Whitney’s room was the bedroom of Kelly’s brothers, Tyler, Timmy, and Zion. They had bunks and an additional bed. That room was large. Toys and clothes would be scattered about across the floor, as I imagine is typical for a bunch of pre-teen and early teen boys. There was a pull-up bar hanging over the door. That whole upstairs area was a place of exploration, preparation, study, and fun.

Back to my bedroom when I was a kid: Up until age 10 or so, my brother and I shared a room. We each had a twin sized bed, his on the left side of the room, mine across the room on the right side, against the wall. There was a large window straight across from the door as soon as you’d walk in. We had those old school radiator heaters against the wall, one beneath each window (the other window was to the left upon entering the room). The thermostat was on the wall, a beige knob one could turn. It worked like a charm for heating up that room. The heaters would creek and emit heat, making the room an oven in no time. A few times we made the mistake of leaving crayons or even a beloved stuffed animals next to the heaters. They’d get toasted. Literally. Looking back, I’m surprised a fire never started.

There was a white, wire shelf that ran from wall to wall, just below the ceiling, above the door. It was lined with stuffed animals of every genus, color, shape, and size. Stuffed animals were my favorite toys. I’m surprised I didn’t go on to become a veterinarian. I named each of my stuffed animals. There was Junior (the most prized), a soft, relatively small, bean-filled light brown creature. He had a scarlet bow around his neck. He typically slept in my bed. I distinctly remember General, a sitting cat with short hair. I brought him home from Toys-R-Us, I think. He was very noble, with his green eyes looking back at his admirer. One of my other favorites was Rainbow, a solid at least 1-pound sand-filled lizard who had a multi-colored print. He was pink, purple, green, etc. and had two black beads for eyes. He was really cool. I think my parents got him for me from Animal World at the mall. I loved that lizard. There was also Freddy, a black lizard with colored speckles. He was smaller than Rainbow, but equally cool.

When I was in my early 20s and still living at home (in college), my mom and I painted my room a light green. It was like the color of key lime pie. I enjoyed the new color a lot. When I was younger, at one point my mom and I put the most awesome dog print wallpaper across the ceiling in my room. I loved that wallpaper. It had german shepherds, labs, and other dog breeds on it.

Posters were a big deal too as a kid. I remember Kelley Davis had magazine cut-outs of the guys from the band “LFO.” We liked them a lot. NSYNC was of course a big hit during my pre-teen years, so my wall proudly displayed its members. Lance Bass was my favorite (by that I mean most handsome). Britney Spears earned her spot on my wall too, with very large posters at times, her mid-section showing as usual. I used to think she was so lucky (she even sang a song called “Lucky”). Little did I know that I’d look at her in my adult years, not realizing she was just a few years older than me. And how I feel sorry for her now. Michael Jordan and Kobe Bryant had their posters as well.

Bedrooms are quite different as an adult. I’ve seen a handful of these when touring friends’ homes. An adult’s room is usually tidier. There’s no posters on the wall. It’s like we’ve lost hope in celebrities, or at least realized they’re just people too. I think an adult’s bedroom does not tell of as much ambition as a teenager’s room does. There’s a sense of arrival in some of the bedrooms of an adult, particularly in the room of a married couple. A contentment of sorts. Sophistication too, as evidenced by nicer bedframes and bedding.

Me and my husband’s room is a cozy place, a place of intimacy and rest. It’s a place of safety for the dog. He likes to sleep on our pillows. It’s also a place where we keep our clothes, both dirty and clean. There’s no stuffed animals (unless they belong to the dog) and there’s no carpet but rather hardwood floors. The shades cover the windows, as if there’s nothing outside them that could possibly be better than what’s in the room.

I feel that the single adult’s room is a bit dispirited, like it longs for love, as does its occupant.

Either way, bedrooms are a glimpse into a person’s life and maybe even into their heart. Look around when someone lets you in their room. And enjoy each room for what it is. It will most certainly change on you, just as people do. ~