This morning after letting the dogs out I went back to bed and had the strangest dream of walking through a house I was convinced had belonged to a great aunt and went on the market for a steal. I didn't know how much it cost when I bought it and seemed to have a spouse who didn't care either, and when I finally actually walked through it the house was the size of a barn with rooms running into each other like a huge complex attic. This seemed to be a mashup of a couple of other odd building dreams I've had in the past - there were aspects of the rooms that were familiar and I remember from other dreams I wouldn't have thought of again. To my dreaming self it seemed like a fascinating project that would result in an elegant space (but without level floors) and lots of great furniture finds dug out and restored. To my waking self it was an insane project. I think this must be cast as a low-level nightmare.