“My house, my dream” is a place where you can get away from everyday life for a while.

Published: 14.06.2026

My house my dream at Teatret Gruppe38 rocking horses

by: Christina Hazelden

The door to a different pace

It was drizzling when I left Teatret Gruppe38 on Aarhus Ø that Friday. The harbor quay lay gray outside, and people were on their way to their weekend plans. I most wanted to turn around and go back through the door to the place I had just come from. Not because I didn't want to see anything. But because there was something inside that I rarely experience in everyday life. Calm.

“My House, My Dream” is hard to put into a box. It doesn’t feel like theater in the classic sense. Nor does it feel like an exhibition where you walk from work to work and read little signs along the way. It’s more like stepping into a house built of memories, dreams, sounds, and little stories waiting to be discovered.

My house my dream at Teatret Gruppe38 - flowers from the ceiling

Headphones are key

When I entered the dark room, I stood there for a while, wondering whether to go right or left. But I quickly realized that it wasn't really that important. There's no real way through the house, and that's one of the first things that makes your shoulders sag. You're not supposed to get anywhere here. You just have to explore.

There are headphones hanging all around the house, and it's important that you put them on and listen. They're not just an extra accessory, they're the very core of the experience. Every time you sit down and put them on, a little universe opens up that exists parallel to the room you're in.
Some of the stories make you smile. Others are quiet and thoughtful. And what they all have in common is that they don't chase you further. They wait patiently for you to be ready to get up yourself.

It's strange how unfamiliar it feels. We're so used to experiences that constantly push us forward. Next scene. Next image. Next message. And here the opposite happens. Here you're allowed to stay in each mood for as long as you want. Maybe that's why the experience feels so different. Not because it's spectacular, but because it relies on silence and curiosity to still move something.

My house my dream at Teatret Gruppe38 - bird cage

A house with many rooms

There is plenty to discover along the way. In one place I listened to the story of the flowers while looking up at the ceiling. In one of the rooms I lay down in an old bunk bed and listened to stories about the children at the grocery store.

In one place there were sounds that mixed with something very slow and rhythmic and almost meditative. In another place I looked in through a window at something I couldn't quite put into words, but which I still felt I understood.

That's how the house works. It doesn't explain itself. It just gives you an opening, and then you fill in the rest yourself with what you have with you.

I found myself staying at each place for a long time. Not because anything big was happening, but because the atmosphere made it difficult to move on.

And sometimes just being present is enough.

My house my dream at Teatret Gruppe38 dripping water

It's more about you than the house.

The longer I walked around there, the more I realized that “My House, My Dream” isn’t really about the rooms and the installations. It’s about what happens inside you while you’re there. Your own memories and thoughts creep in and mix with what you see and hear, and suddenly the experience has become much more personal than you had anticipated.

That's probably what makes it hard to explain to others afterwards. Not because it's secret, but because a large part of the experience is your own.

My house my dream at Teatret Gruppe38 the cupboard

The cherry orchard afterwards

When I finally got back out into the cherry orchard, a small table was waiting. Large paper flowers hung from the ceiling. On the table was a cool glass of a pink drink and a plate of small servings, drawn in order directly on the porcelain. Start here. Then there. Then there.

It may have sounded like a gimmick, but it wasn't. It felt like a natural extension of what I had just experienced. Again, it was about taking things slow and paying attention to what's right in front of you.

We need places like this

As I stood out in the drizzle again and looked back towards the entrance, I thought that we should have access to a place like this all year round. Because we really need it every now and then. The loving break where everyday life pauses, and you can just walk through a door, sit down and listen to life as a flower.