I dreamed I came home to a house, expecting to see a few cats, and there were none. Nor could any of the people around explain why. I walked upstairs, thought I saw Moby on our bed, except the size was wrong, and it turned out to be a large, black, very friendly bouncy dog. I coaxed him out and down the steps, returning to shut the door, and look for Moby, who was nowhere to be found. Later, I went back up to look for something for D, and the dog had snuck back up, and I scooted him out again. After a long search for D's item, Moby did appear shyly. I got so mad, that someone brought this dog to Moby's home, scared him off his own bed, and now wouldn't admit it. None of the people in the edges of the dream would take responsibility for the dog, but were chastising me for getting the dog on a leash to take him to the shelter. Nice dog, just big and energetic, not the dog's fault, not angry with the animal, but whoever thoughtlessly brought him in. The dream drifted off without action.
This house of my dreams is based on the house I grew up in. Whenever I dream I am in a house, it is a version of that one.
I have signed up for a training class, teaching shelter dogs manners. I think I will do more with the canines once I have better skills, it can't be all just acting authoritatively and watching It's Me Or The Dog stuff.
I've become aware that my age is showing, some bad photos this week. And it's not just that I'm looking at another birthday, there is a marked qualitative change, not just the grey hair either. I figured the drain of a few years with persistent pain is no small part of this. Worry over jobs and income. The slight easing actually is worse for me, as I tend to hold together tight in a crisis, then fall apart when the worst is over. I'm feeling crumbly this week.