One part of the dream I was above a climber on some steep rock face as he was leading what looked like the last pitch of the route. At some point I was watching the scene as if I were this small camera mounted at the top of the route because when the climber got to the top, right under the camera, he moved the camera around so it had a better view of the last part of the pitch. My view of the scene change as he moved the camera.

I don’t recall the transition, but there was a new scene where I, and a woman whom I don’t recall, had to move from our home into this other home which seemed close by, but like in a rural, farming area. I seem to recall that the first place was on a lake and in parts of the dream it was almost as if it shared some of the qualities or appearance of Eena lake. However, the house, the land was nothing like the place I had on Eena lake. Soon I was in the new house and I seem to recall that maybe I was actually moving in with this short woman named Erin that I know locally. We were not partners or anything and she had a husband and at least one child. After getting things moved into the house I seem to recall that there was a huge pile of laundry on the floor of the laundry room but for some reason, our laundry basket did not make it over in the move. I know I was already planning to go out and buy some paint I think, but I did not have enough for a laundry basket so went into this bedroom to wake my partner to get more money. This woman was not really Bonny, but sort of a cross between Bonny and my previous partner Maureen. She had been lying on her stomach with her purse underneath her stomach and groggily started hunting for some cash to give me to buy a laundry basket. I recall dozens of pennies falling out of her purse and I was scooping them up into a pile on the bed.

I then seem to recall being downstairs and noticed it was raining very hard. I was then laying on my side, while this very short man with a quiet disposition was laying across the window sill in front of me, or at least that’s what is seemed like. Or maybe I was on a couch or something, on my right side, and he was on the window sill across from me. In between us, playing on the thick shag carpet was a little boy around 2 years old. He had a large mug of Pepsi and was reaching up to put it on a ledge, or maybe it was the sill where his dad was stretched out. The mug of Pepsi was too heavy for the little boy and it spilled onto the shag carpet as he tried to reach up and put it on the ledge or sill.

As I was coming back to the room with a wet cloth, the short man on the sill was talking to me about all the art in the old house, as if he were the one that bought the house. He then said something about a stained glass window done by Ken Skoda which he thought would be taken out and then sold. I then started to describe the large Skoda portrait of an old Indian man/Chief saying that it was much nicer than the stained glass window (which I don’t have and have never seen). I was then woken by my alarm.