カーサソフィア、ルーフトップデッキ、素晴らしい眺望、Adobe Wood Burning暖炉、ホットタブ

A dream led us to Casa Sophia.
It was the winter of 1997. We’d retreated from the constant hum of city life to the home of generous friends out on Taos Mesa. Our first night, silent snow began falling as I sat by a cozy kiva fire reading Pumpkin Seed Point, a book by the Southwest author Frank Waters. I read it straight through. It’s Frank’s tale of his three-year stay on the Hopi mesa studying the ancient cosmology of the Hopi.
Mind-altered, I fell asleep and dreamed of a library room where people stood in conversation, including a slender man I took to be Frank and his fourth wife Barbara, a Jungian psychotherapist with big, blonde hair. I could see through Frank to the bookshelves behind him, and I imagined that he was both there and not there.
In the morning I found the Waters’ number in the Taos phone book and stammered to the person who answered that I’d been reading Frank’s book in the night and wondered if I might thank him for it. She thanked me for the thought and said that Frank had died in 1995. Might she be Barbara? Yes, she was.
“Are you a Jungian psychotherapist by any chance?” I asked her.
“Yes I am,” she answered with perfect grace.
“Do you happen to have blonde hair?”
“Yes I do!”
“I’ve been dreaming about you and Frank all night!” I told her, not quite believing any of this.
“I think you’d better come up here so we can meet!” she said, believing all of it. “Come up as soon as the snow melts a little.”
And so we did. We were met by a Barbara and a committee of her dogs at the door of their historic adobe across the road from Pueblo land. “I think you’re supposed to live here,” Barbara said, “and there’s a house for sale around the corner.”
And so we bought the house, naming it for the original owner Sofia, who finished raising her ten children on her own after her husband froze with his sheep one sub-zero winter in Idaho.