I had this really long dream last night about buying this big, sprawling, beautiful house with lots of rooms and full of old, worn furniture. In one room there was a big console record player with a bunch of records (I'm not sure if it worked) and an old piano. I remember being very excited that a cupboard had a bunch of 45s along with the albums that were in the console's cabinets. Also, there were little closets everywhere with all sorts of things in them. The ceiling was really high in one room and had windows at the top that went all the way up, covered with old tapestry. Every time you would try to pull the cord to open them, though, something would fall and what looked like Christmas trees would crash down onto the floor. The house was dusty and had an unused feel, but the colours were all warm reds and golds, so instead of being creepy, it was comforting.
In the same dream my father showed up, and nobody gave it much thought that he's been dead for eighteen years; it was like he'd just been away and came back and we were all really glad to have him in our lives again, especially my mother, who sent him a message with an assumed name, for some reason. We all sat in this room with the piano and the records and I was just really content to be there, even with all the worn and damaged furniture.
Later on I went exploring and found more little rooms and closets and cubbyholes. There was a shelf in one, high up, with boxes of LPs all over the place. One closet had nothing but RCMP badges and blue uniform shirts (only they were really short, more like shrugs and I'm pretty sure they had belonged to a woman) hanging on hangers and I think a couple of walkie-talkie type things, and for some reason I knew this would please my father (who was neither a cop nor Canadian) greatly. The rooms seemed to go on forever, and I loved exploring them.
There was also something involving cast members of Little Mosque on the Prairie (which I haven't seen in weeks, so wtf?), something about celebrating Christmas and how even if some of the guests were Muslim they'd come anyway because they were friends, and a song that involved both of these elements (there was more to the Little Mosque sidestory, but it's all jumbled up and hard to explain. Something about installing carpeting in the mosque. Go figure, I have dreams with actual B stories). I'm pretty sure there was snow on the ground, as well.
I remember trying to remember what my apartment had looked like and wasn't able to do it. I also wondered what my mortgage would be and why I hadn't made an offer that was below the asking price. I wanted to be able to save some money to fix the run-down parts of the house.
In another part of the dream, or maybe it was like a prelude to it, I was in a room filled with....something...toys? I don't remember. It was a second-storey room of a little cottage on the ocean in some seacoast town (It sort of reminds me of the Cornwall cottage in Over Sea, Under Stone), and to get home I had to climb out the window and walk over a ledge (which involved turning a corner of the outside of the cottage while hanging onto some kind of pipe or pole) and down a fence. I didn't want to leave, but for some reason it was time to go and I felt I had to. Below the window I needed to climb from were nothing but ocean and rocks, and if I fell I'd be killed.
I looked out and didn't think I could do it and I guess I decided not to, but the next thing I knew I was standing outside the cottage and I knew I couldn't get back in. I have no idea how I got out, and the view was different; no rocks or ocean, just a quiet little road. It was like the inside had been another dimension and I was really sad because the cottage had been very important to me somehow and I didn't think I'd ever be able to go back. I ended up walking into this store that sold old fishing gear and rusty parts of...something, I'm not sure what. Stoves? Anvils? Things made of iron, I think. Whatever they were, I was drawn to them because somehow they were almost like what had been in the little house. I was also with someone in this part but I don't know who it was.
It was after that I dreamt the rest, about the big house.
My phone ringing woke me up and it was after two in the afternoon, so I'd been sleeping somewhere around twelve hours. Long dreams will keep me asleep like that, so I wonder what would have been next if the phone hadn't rung, and how long I really would have slept.
ETA: What does it say about me that I have edited this post about ten times and had the offhand thought of getting a beta? No, this isn't a rhetorical question. I really have no idea. Er.