I had a dream the other night. In it my sister and I were fixing up our rooms in the attic where we slept for most of our childhood and all of our teenage years. I had the front, unheated room, and she had the back, heated room. Neither room had a closet, so we used those roll-around clothing hanging things you see on the streets of New York City in the garment district for our clothing. If it didn't go in one of our two drawers, then it went on the garment hanger thingy.
This was really a dream I didn't want to wake up from. In this dream we had won some sort of prize and we each had $5,000 to spend in fixing up the rooms. The first thing we both did was build closets in the rooms, back to back on the dividing wall. We were actually doing the work ourselves, and our husbands were doing the drying walling. We would do the painting.
We had just spent a boatload of money on "accessories" and I was about to finish the room arrangement and decorating when BING my bladder went into "hurry up" mode and I woke up from one of the nicest dreams I've had in a long time. And it was in color.
Why was it such a nice dream? Well, believe it or not, while I now know that my bedroom was less than attractive to most people, and would be one of those "worst bedrooms in the world" that appears on TLC today, to me it was a cocoon of blessing and I loved my room. I loved the fact that I could move the furniture around and change it for the various seasons. I loved the fact that I had wonderful antique furniture and antique linens to use in my room, those linens stayed with me for a long time. In fact, one of the items was a satin, down-filled quilt which was my grandmother's, and I had that until one of our dogs decided she wanted to eat it.
I had to get rid of the quilt, and it was the last straw with that dog. We got rid of the dog as well.