Last night's dream - the half I remember at any rate - was really quite bizarre. It was set entirely at home, but a darker, slightly damp and decaying home. This was not helped by a kind of infection in the bricks, mortar and wood that made up the structure. Called 'milldew', it was a creeping, possibly sentient mould or fungus that had been accidentally brought in on the metal of my father's tools. It attacked the house beneath the visible surfaces, so the only real indication that it was present was the sound it made - a kind of chirruping or croaking, like a frog.
The sound freaked me out, and my father kept making fun of me for being upset by it but, after a little prompting, set about 'treating the infection'. The cure for milldew, apparently, was a kind of superglue, injected deep into the bricks. My mother tried to direct his efforts, but he started to do it his own way after she suggested moving to a particular area of the house, and he replied that would be a bad idea because that's where he'd need to put his tools to get them 'disinfected', so it would have to be the last place he went.
The effect of the glue was almost instantaneous - the chirruping stopped and the house became silent again by degrees.
I'm sure there was more, but I can't remember it for the life of me. All I remember is that it didn't get any less weird.
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