I dreamt last night that my roof was leaking, although I was living in a far different house than my own. It was a large brick building, multiple floors with turrets and balconies and old storerooms filled with left over remnants from businesses that had dried up.
I was upset because I had just spent a large sum of dream cash on a roof repair and had begun remodeling the insides… a remodel that was being ruined by the pounding tempest outside (that was now quite a bit inside).
I walked down the street through the rain, unable to see, but feeling my way, until I entered a hardware store (that was selling fish in Pepsi bottles and livestock in pens). Brent’s Grandpa Dick was there, a chewed up cigar in his mouth, wearing a dirty white tanktop and suspenders that held up his Sunday-go-to-meetin’ pants
I asked Dick for some pig troughs, which I think I was planning to use like funnels (don’t ask me?). He said that he just rented the last of them to my cousin Jeff, but that Brent might be able to help. He was out back.
I walked through the aisles, wandering this way and that, till I stepped into a large room that looked like a roller rink but had cardboard cement tubes stacked all over the place and the floor was covered with nails.
“Mind your step,” Brent said. He was standing in the center of the room using a hockey stick to sweep up the nails.
“I need a couple of sections of pig trough,” I called out.
He stopped his sweeping.
“No you don’t,” he replied. “You just need it to quit raining.”
He walked over and handed me a nail… and I woke up.