There was a sequence of being in a multi-story house with my mom and my sister.  It seemed a bit cramped on the upper level.  My sister and I went outside and she saw some orangish tee-shirt hung up off to the side that had been gifted to me by someone named Kelly.  She saw it and had a brief moment of confusion, asking “So you’re not gay?” I guess she thought I was straight but this shirt apparently suggested otherwise.  I mentioned that it was a gift from Kelly, not really understanding how the shirt was related to my sexual preference.  I wasn’t offended or embarrassed, nor feeling any negative emotion about the idea that my sister perhaps had held the wrong idea about me on this particular subject– I guess that’s a sign of my maturation from young-adulthood when I cared more about others’ perceptions.

We went back inside, and I decided to go downstairs to sleep because I knew there was another guest bedroom down there.  I recall going down and being somewhat confused as I stood in the hallway looking at several very narrow white doors. I thought they didn’t seem wide enough to be functional; they were barely wide enough for a normal-sized person to fit through, so furniture would have no chance.  I assumed they were ornamental, perhaps meant to give the perception of larger space, or else maybe some Alice in Wonderland effect.  Then the landlady showed up and gave me direction.  Suddenly I was in the proper guest room, which was actually quite a large space.  There was a full or queen bed straight ahead as I walked in, then there was about three bedrooms worth of space to the left that all seemed unutilized.

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