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Here’s the dream I had last night. Fascinating, I know.

I walked downstairs and yelled. Why I yelled, I don’t know, though I assume I was probably just being loud for fun. As in, a random whim, no real reason. So I yelled, and this scared my grandmother, who was apparently down in the living room, but I didn’t know it. She got very mad at me and I apologized like crazy and ran downstairs before my mom showed up to yell at me for making Grandma K mad. I remember Grandma having a tiny little dog, which is kind of hilarious, because she is the last person who would have a little dog, or any kind of pet.

I get downstairs, and go to find some clothes. I guess I was heading downstairs to get clothes for a shower or something. Only all my shirts are gone. Most of my clothes, really. All that was left were things I’d never wear, very masculine things, and pants without pockets. I looked through all the clothes for a long time, repeating the search again and again, trying to find something to wear. My clothes were gone. I knew my mother had hid them, but I didn’t want to demand to know their location because of the previous grandmother incident. I remember tabulating how much it would cost to replace some of my rarer apparel and being incredibly mad.

Eventually, Dad came down and saw me looking through clothes again and again, and pointed me to a series of very oddly-labeled boxes, where my mother had hid everything. I painstakingly re-hung every article of clothing, even though part of me knew my mother would just hide them again.

Then I woke up.

Some obvious dream-analysis bait there, though I suppose you’d learn that, gasp, I’m kind of having issues with my mother. Not the most useful. But, as per usual when I write these, it’s rare for me to remember a dream so vividly, so I wanted to record it. Just because.