This definitely qualifies as an anxiety dream which I was having shortly before I awoke this morning.
I came home expecting to start painting the remaining rooms and the carpet-laying team was already here and were nearly finished with the living room. What's odd is that it wasn't even my house, but all my cats were here, including Samantha.
The carpet wasn't particularly attractive, but the backside of the carpet was a beautiful native American pattern like so many of the wonderful handwoven rugs I've seen in Santa Fe. I kept wanting to instruct the guys to flip it over.
There seemed to be dozens of guys on the crew because the open floor plan of the house was enormous. One of the guys was working nude. Some of them were even doing some landscaping outside.
I just kept walking around the house in circles unsure of whether I should quickly paint the baseboards in the bedrooms at least or just blow it off.
Waking up never felt so good.
I just remembered another brief dream I had earlier in the night. In my dream I woke up and walked into the living room and there was a black guy standing there with a guitar. Apparently it was ours and he had repaired it and was returning it to us. I know it really wasn't ours because our only guitar was also in the room standing in a corner. While the guy was tuning the repaired guitar, I grabbed mine and was putting it in the case and as I touched the strings, beautiful jazzy ethereal music emerged which perfectly complemented what he was doing. Even as I closed the lid on the case, the guitar let out another hum which was beyond description in its beauty.
I looked at the guy and said, "it's odd how things like that sometimes happen. It was like it was meant to be."
And then he left.