This time, my parents had urged/forced me out of the house so I was rooming with a friend who was austere and a pain in the ass. I went back to the house to visit, and in the two days that I had been gone, they were remodeling a bunch of stuff. I think they were planning to move out and return the house to the "owners" who were the two little old ladies (sisters) that lived upstairs; apparently the house was a rental. I was upset, because the house was this awesome Victorian mansion that was connected underground to a whole bunch of shops downtown, it had two swimming pools and a hot tub, and if we moved out, it would end up being bought out and turned into a bunch of shitty condos.
My father wasn't really present visually, but the work he was doing was. He was remodeling the bathroom, my old bedroom, and a bunch of other rooms from what I could tell.
I offered to take the place over, but my mother was obviously of the opinion that it was something I couldn't handle. My sister and brother-in-law showed up with some of my stuff that I had apparently left at their place. Looked mostly like games and videos.
We all went to dinner at the underground beef restaurant that had a funeral home above it. All really swanky places, decorated in a rich Victorian style.
Everything was solid, had substance and texture. It was beautiful, but I felt like I was being forced out because others (my family) didn't believe that I was capable, that I didn't deserve it.
I know the house is me, and the relatives are aspects of my self-doubt. As the dreams have progressed in time, the house has become richer, more opulent, the haunting entity has disappeared, and the beauty has started shining through. I have to think that that alone reflects considerable progress, even though there is angst.
I carried that whole dream experience with me when I woke up. It's still kinda hanging around. I feel ultimately rejected because I'm not good enough, or incapable, or just taken out of context.
Gonna shake it off now and go do stuff.