Had a dream last night in which I realized that the young daughter of friends of mine (much younger in the dream than reality) was graced with a thin little kitten's tail. "How long has H had a tail?" I said in shock. They looked at me funny. "She's always had a tail." Meanwhile I was putting their (non-existent) baby boy to bed. (Boy was in reality Mr. Lovebug from daycare, de-aged about eighteen months.) Having done so I wondered why I still had him in my arms. Looked down and it was my friends' (equally non-existent) fat puppy. Shades of Alice in Wonderland.
Somehow it's the most ordinary dreams that feel the happiest. Like the pictures in my house, they all have houses in them, and unlike the pictures, they all have babies. This one had my friends living in a big house in some kind of countryside (curving drive hedged with bushes heading up and out to the hills). The house was filled with visiting (dream) relatives present for some unspecified occasion, like the people in the chateau in The Wanderer-- knots of little girls running about on their little girl games, toddling toddlers, loud adult sisters/ cousins congregating in kitchen and living room (someone was very relieved when 'those North Virginians' finally left), and a magnificent muslim woman in red and black robes sweeping about the upper floors.
The atmosphere of all this can't be conveyed. Everything is backgrounded by an elevated sense of friendliness and warmth, like the Platonic Form of good fellowship. The first time I had that kind of dream was back in '71. I dreamed my Old English prof was having a party in his rooms and a number of us were standing about talking and drinking. K came over to Prof D and me to show off his new wide-bottomed trousers, kicking his leg to demonstrate the lavish amount of fabric they contained, smiling and friendly and a little flirtatious. And then I woke up, slowly, into the immensely desolating here and now that wasn't like that at all.