I dreamed I was cleaning out a room. This room was just packed with clutter—literally floor to ceiling—but I was actually really enjoying excavating it and seeing all the stuff that was there. I think one of my friends was helping out.
When we finished, the room was a model of Swedish minimalist interior decor, which is actually a style I kind of hate, but in the dream I was pleased with myself for getting everything put away so neatly. Then Boy Howdy walked in, and I remembered that this wasn't actually my house, it was his house. I started to stutter an apology for messing with his stuff, and reassuring him that nothing had been thrown away—it was just all in the closet.
But then everything changed and it was my house, and it wasn't Swedish minimalist at all, it was an old-world manor house filled with antiques. My rich maiden aunts (who owned the manor, and who had adopted me) came in to tell me that since I'd done an excellent job cleaning the room they were going to have some guests over.
So the guests all came and sat down at the long formal dining table, laughing and talking, and I swept around them in my big flouncy emerald-green gown, and the cute little silky-eared beagle puppy that I'd found in a corner of the room followed me around as I served dinner. I kept finding things like silverware and china exactly when I needed them, and they were all antique and beautiful.
I'd uncovered an old portrait on one of the walls, of one of my ancestors—she was also posing in a green gown with her beagle, and I knew that I took after her and that everybody thought it was excellent that I was carrying on the family traditions so well. I was too busy getting dinner on the table to sit down with the other guests, but I felt an intense sense of approval and accomplishment as I swished around the room.