Morning of March 16, 2014. Sunday.

This morning, a dream where I wanted someone to leave my stuff alone. Can you tell by the title? (Sorry, my humor is dried up today.)

I am not quite sure where I am living. I do seem to be my older self at most points, though I also seem to be in a house with my father, or rather, a character that is only a little like my father at certain times - as well as my wife also living there, though, and I think my mother (mostly in the background). The house is somewhat like the one from Barolin Street, our last home.

I am straightening up and moving a few of my things to maintain order a bit better relative to my belongings. At one point, I see the furniture is all in a different arrangement to the prior and am very angry (although the rooms are tidy at that point). I have always had a focus in real life on the best use of space, especially in a smaller house. I start yelling about how things have been changed and plan on moving everything back the way it was. It was the "father" that did this. I have never yelled at (or "needed" to) my father in real life. We had a very close and continuous spiritual relationship.

At a few different points, the "father" is different each time, with an unusually-shaped head and completely different facial features than my real father. There is one point where he resembles my father a little more clearly. At this point, his legs seem to grow much thinner though, and he seems to be having some sort of "fit" and I ask him several times if he needs an ambulance. However, the dream keeps changing form.

There is one scene where all the furniture; two couches, a few chairs, some of my belongings, and a bookcase or two, are all piled randomly in a mess in the center of a larger room. My wife seems annoyed by the "father" at this point as well. He seems to have done it as an act against the criticism about having moved the furniture in the previous scene.

I am concerned about where things are at a few different points. There is one point where the "father" hits me but very lightly, by punching my cheek (seems to be the Barolin Street kitchen), barely making an impact (my father never hit me in real life) and I then make a drama about some sort of court case to be the result of this action and something about asking my wife to "call my lawyer" - yet I never had a lawyer in my lifetime in reality (most similar scenes of which is really nothing like my real personality in my overall behavior throughout). I do not seem "myself" in this dream, which is fairly rare. It is almost like a series of vague soap-opera-like scenarios where sometimes the focus of the anger is unknown. I even call the "father" a skinny "punk" (at that point he seems much younger than me and is even a blonde Caucasian, barely older than a ninth grader) - and "punk" is a word I never liked and have never used as such in real life (along with many other words, such as "bloke" and extremely annoying non-words like "infotainment" and "ho" or other words based on the inability to correctly pronounce the source word). In my dream, the clothes he is wearing keep changing throughout as well, from one scene to the next.

This dream is rather ambiguous and lacking any uniform continuity or plot and is mostly just a self-perpetrating atmosphere of unclear displeasure only supposedly based on the actions of another (who keeps morphing into different appearances and characters throughout, yet somehow supposedly still being of the same identity). It is not that common for me to have such dreams and I am thankful for that!