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Jigsaw Swamped

Morning of January 29, 2015. Thursday.

My wife and oldest daughter return from possibly the library or shopping (though they are not noticeably carrying bags at the time) through the front door of where we presently live on W Street. When I approach my daughter she seems annoyed and possibly angry about something. The unusual weather from real life (or rather how it has been for several days previously) seems a part of my dream's environment. It seems to be in the early afternoon.

I go into the backyard, facing east, and contemplate what I should say (or if I should say anything). My wife comes out and I hover in the air vertically, about five feet from the ground. She smiles and acts as if she thinks I may not know I am doing this and even asks me if I know I am floating in the air but I do not say anything coherent. (I have rarely had any trouble hovering or flying in dreams, though I do often become lucid when hovering. Such is not the case here, though I have always been intrigued by how natural it feels to float upwards into the air while standing.)

I soon become aware that my wife and oldest daughter are going out again, though I am not sure where. The large ugly parking lot in the area is back to being a pleasant empty field again. As I fly around, they walk northerly through the field, more to the eastern side of it. I fly down to see if my daughter is feeling well, but she now does not really look like my oldest daughter. She seems several years younger and has shorter black hair. In my dream, I do not coherently think of her as a third daughter though, and I am also not sure of her name (I do not call her by name in-dream anyway, as I recall).

I tell her that I am here and that she is talented and creative, so thus has skills to survive and attain whatever she wants. I tell her that she has always been a good daughter. I move from flying about to walking next to her on her right. She smiles, asking, "A daughter of...God?"

I slowly shake my head very lightly, as I do not care that much about being called "God" - it seems too generic and insignificant as well as with too many humanly diverse and limited religious associations. "The daughter of...everything," I acknowledge. I tell her that I will be around to help her in any way she wants and then I fly back to the front of our house as they continue to walk wherever they are going.

I then have a bit of trouble closing the front doors (though I am mostly only aware of the main wooden door - the screen door does not actually seem present) due to hundreds of larger jigsaw puzzle pieces lying all over the floor, both inside and outside (in fact, they almost seem to multiply over time as I notice more and more). I make several attempts to get as many back into the living room as possible. Some of them are under the carpet (which is closer to the door than in reality) and I am thinking my youngest son is responsible for not putting them all away and I am complaining aloud even though no one is in the room. I do close the door a couple times, but consider that no pieces should be left outside (especially as it may be raining more heavily soon and water may come onto the porch). I am wondering how many different containers the pieces will fill. As I become more and more annoyed, I realize that I am dreaming and wake in gratitude that I do not have to sort and put away all the pieces (which may have come from several different floor-sized cardboard jigsaw puzzles).

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