Rotting Floors?

I dreamt that we were living in a house… a cute house and not bad looking. The house wasn’t big, but not small either. It was a bright and cheery house. Then there were leaks in the roof and we moved our mattress from our bedroom into the lounge, to avoid the leak. The leak was rather bad. I hadn’t made the ‘bed’ yet. The bedstead was a dark, old oak style, much like my old dressing table, which was oak that was stained dark in some bygone era.

We had visitors. There were a few. One looked a lot like Lyn W, and seemed to be the owner of the house… I think… or she owned the nearby house. One of the other visitors was a distinguished looking, but very cheery gentleman with white hair and a dark suit. He laughed a lot. He was wealthy, owning a yacht. Very much the wealthy sailor type.

At some point during the visit, with Lyn serving snacks, I was explaining why the bed was in the lounge and took the guests to see the damage. The floor in the bedroom was wood and had rotted somewhat from the water. I was walking over the floor with the yacht owner when the floor gave way and we fell into the hollow the collapsed floor made, rolling to the center. Neither of us were hurt, but were laughing hysterically. In fairness, it did look funny.

We got out of the ‘hole’ in the floor, still laughing. In the corner of the room was a baby lying on a blanket on the floor. The baby was very big, as babies go and stark naked. It was cheerful and content though. The baby was with the visitors. The yacht man then said we need to get the floor fixed. He began arranging the repairs. I wasn’t too happy with who he chose to do the repairs, as it wasn’t a reliable repair man.

The rest of the night revolved around airports, runways, airplanes, but the details are hazy.


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