My parents and friends would come and not want to leave. They will appreciate each and every idea and detail that went into the design and the form.
I would repeat the whole conservation in my dream about how they loved everything ---- from the patio, the french country kitchen cabinets, my spacious attic, the basement cum study; to the cookie jars at the dining, towel holders, scented oils, and potpourri in the bathroom.
I know what furniture I need, what plants to grow, what crockery and cutlery to use , what curtains to drape, what Salvador Dali painting to hang where and even what dogs to pet.
Yes, the dogs... three of them, Cookie, Hugsy and Ty. Cookie is a beagle, the youngest and the naughtiest. Hugsy is an adorable, golden retriever, totally hugg-able!!( I named him after Joey's stuffed toy-penguin from F.R.I.E.N.D.S) and Ty is a fully grown, male, white labrador . He makes sure that the rest of them behaves ( including me)!.
I would replay this pretty picture of me coming back home, welcomed by jumping dogs, fresh scent of the pauls-scarlett climbers , and the warm embrace of logs burning at the hearth--- over and over again.
And I would bake every time someone came home. Souffle it would be, anything less in my story-book house would be a shame. They would call me the pastry -princess , as they relish down delicious slices of pies, made out of freshly picked blueberries, served with whipped cream and butter.
I would play my Tin Whistle (an irish flute), and put my dogs off to sleep and pick up yet another short story of Chekov, Murakami or Saki and snuggle myself up in my bed till my eyelids fail me.
Gradually I'll fall asleep too, feeling content, and wanting nothing more from life.
As I said, this chapter is called “Dreaming”