I'm touring a house, I believe in Bend. It's huge and practically palatial, with rich dark wooden textures. I remember this house, from a long time ago, it was the first one I saw when I started shopping (and I remember it from another dream, either one where I finding new rooms in my house, some of which are sloped and unfinished, or where there is one room I'd forgotten that would make a great place to set up all my old computers and video games), and I loved it. I'm telling somebody, possibly my dad, that what I really like about it are these rooms that aren't really any particular sort of room, like a living room or dining room, they are just different rooms. Like this one room that is just a platform, high up within another larger room, with just a sort of bridge to get to it, and a pot-bellied wood stove in the middle. Modern houses only have the minimum of rooms - a dining room, living room, bedrooms, etc - each optimized to its specific purpose. They're all very - and we say simultaneously - "cookie-cutter".

Then it's time to leave, and Vera brings Amber (the baby) to me to carry. She's very tired and about to go to sleep, but I say give me just a minute, I should go pee before I take her.