I was ordering people around in my dreams last night.  I was in a house where a lot of other people lived, sort of like sharing a house during college years.  I “owned” the kitchen, though.  It was my turf.  (IRL this is not surprising at all)  I just just gone food shopping for the house and had put my groceries away.  I was tidying up other stuff and I see one of the house-mates come in carrying a box of salt (kosher, of course) and she puts it in a cabinet where it CLEARLY does not belong (the nerve!).  I stop her and say, “whoa, wait a minute, that doesn’t go there.  let me show you where it goes.” and i open the cabinet where she put the salt and i see that there are also bags of rice and pasta in there where they do not belong!  Argh!  I got all OCD on her and was just flabbergasted, stammering, “who has been in here?!  this is all wrong!!” and I’m dumping bags of rice in her arms and barking at her to help me move it all back to the pantry.  She’s all “what’s a pantry?” and I just about die with exasperation.

Next, I’m on some type of project team that is re-painting this one wall above the fireplace of a building.  It doesn’t feel like the same house as the kitchen dream.  I’ve got a group of people with me and we can’t agree on what to do with the space.  One guy draws some large, colorful almost cartoonish piece on the wall, but when I look closer I can see that he didn’t fully cover up the older artwork that was on the wall previously and I get annoyed that he was so careless in his preparation.  I grab a rag and start scrubbing the wall in between where he painted to try to remove the old pattern without disturbing his new design, but it’s not working.  I tell him we need to erase his work and start from scratch.  He’s okay with that, but then others chime in that maybe we should give the project another thought, so they start gabbing amongst themselves while I walk up and down the fireplace wall taking a closer look at the architecture.  I finally get a great idea to create a layered texture using plaster and paint in different tones of warm yellows, golds and oranges.  It would give it sort of a gradiant look from the bricks of the fireplace and form a nice transitory blend as it crept higher up the wall.  I am trying to explain this to the group but they’re still talking and not giving me their undivided attention.  Argh.

Finally the last dream that I remember was an entirely different feel than the aforementioned, and it was also very brief.  My Nana had died.  I was extremely sad, and I remember saying something like “You never know that the last time you talk to someone will really be the last time”.  I was also a bit happy that she’d gone to be with God because of how old and frail she had become, and how I hated that stinky nursing home she’s been in.  I had found a black and white photograph of her and my mother; they were sitting outside on the brick front steps of an old house.  They were sitting on the bottom few steps, off to the left of the frame, and you could see the front doors to the house behind them, which were squarely in the center of the shot.  They were double doors; white, with large square panes of glass in them, and they looked very old as the white paint was chipping and peeling in places.  My Mom and Nana were sitting next to each other, not looking at the camera and not smiling, but not somber.  It was a beautiful picture.  I took the photograph and put it in a glass frame (one of the type where the print is just floating in the glass without a matte) and I hung it on the wall (not sure where I was exactly).  I was so happy to have that picture to remember my beautiful Nana.

IRL, no such photograph exists, and Nana is still alive but fading away in the nursing home.  I should call her.

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