There's an Irish folktale in Jane Yolen's "Favorite Folktales from Around the World" about a woman called Mrs Butler, who for years told stories about the house she visited in her dreams. She knew every room, every turning corner, and each time she dreamed of it she saw more of it.

Retiring from Ireland to outside London and looking for a house, she and her husband visited one being offered at a bargain. As soon as she saw it, Mrs Butler offered to give the tour because she knew every inch of it. They were later told the house was haunted, but not to worry - she was the ghost!

I want to dream the way Mrs Butler dreams. I can see the house I want, the garden, the road, the fields in every direction. One day, house, I'll come to find you.

Leslie Hudson: piano, lead vocals, BGV
Jen Midkiff: Camac Clio electroacoustic pedal harp
Stacy Koviak-Davison: BGV

Lyrics

I want to dream like Mrs Butler dreams
She walks in like a memory, strolling reality
Or so it seems
She walks out like a ghost
Making the most of her see-through perambulation
Haunting the house
Haunting the house of her dreams

So I imagine a house not too large
A staircase and bookcases, old leather suitcases
Wide open windows and chairs by the fire
Crows on the rooftop and salt on the stovetop
And herbs hanging down from the ceiling

I want to dream like Mrs Butler dreams
She walks in like a memory, strolling reality
Or so it seems
She walks out like a ghost
Making the most of her see-through perambulation
Haunting the house
Haunting the house of her dreams
Haunting the house of her dreams

So I envision a garden run wild
With mint and forget-me-not, monkshood and hollyhock
Lavender, bedstraw and gold marguerite
Crows in the seedbeds and wind blowing seedheads
And bread left with cream by the hedgerow

I want to dream like Mrs Butler dreams
She walks in like a memory, strolling reality
Or so it seems
She walks out like a ghost
Making the most of her see-through perambulation
Haunting the house
Haunting the house of her dreams
Haunting the house of her dreams

So I will conjure a place all my own
A hedge witch’s haven, a life to be brave in
Trees on the walls like the woods have come
Wandering into my nemeton
Witnessing all that I’m breathing out into the forest

I want to dream like Mrs Butler dreams
She walks in like a memory, strolling reality
Or so it seems
She walks out like a ghost
Making the most of her see-through perambulation
Haunting the house
Haunting the house of her dreams
Haunting the house of her dreams
Haunting the house of her dreams