This is not my beautiful home.

Dream: I am staying at my mother's house, which she has just moved into. It is a large, winding, Victorian, in the middle of a large field. I tell her I've come up with a great way to water her garden without leaving the house, and extend a garden hose through the window, spraying water out into the yard. The wind bends the water back into an open window of the house, and my mom rolls her eyes at me.

It is night, and I am sneaking through the house looking for my pajamas, trying not to wake anyone. I am opening cupboards, and do not know who is sleeping in each room. I give up my search and go to bed in my clothes, then, restless, I look over at a couple of chairs next to my bed and see my pajamas strewn about on them.

I hear my stepfather's voice through the wall, saying "The house found them for her. I don't like it here."

I realize the house is alive.

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Recurring Theme Discovery!

Houses that I know belong to people in dreams, but recognize are not the houses they inhabit in reality.