First I dreamed I was in Venice. Then, Theresa, Rick, some Dream People, and I were on a road trip to Gettysburg when we stopped to stay in an old two storey house with white siding; it needed a paint job. We were getting out of the car, which I think was a red SUV, and Theresa was talking about the house. It was getting dark. Inside the place was a dump, and a family was living there: an older mother with her three grown children, two daughters and a son. The oldest girl was taking a bath when we got there, I'd guess she was thirty with short brown hair. The accommodations were adjoining rooms with dirty clothes scattered about. I could hear the youngest daughter with her husband in the next room. He was trying to talk her into sex, but she wasn't having it. I got up because I couldn't sleep and walked about. One of my male companions was blaming the stay on my friend's husband Greg. I was sitting there thinking that Theresa had booked the room, and that Greg wasn't even there, so how was it his fault? I went back to my room. The big dirty green sunken tub where the daughter had been bathing when we got there was empty now. Rick and his girlfriend, Katie, were sitting in a small square bathtub with a white fence around it. Katie was wearing glasses and a white bathing cap. Rick was giving her a hard time about something when he told me it was his aunt Mary Anne's house. I was surprised. It was now morning and I went outside with the brother of the house who had dark hair and was in his twenties or thirties. We were climbing over some large yellow boulders that seemed to be sandstone when I rolled over and woke up.
