The following is an actual dream included in my dream journal, and does not describe actual facts
Dream of: 05 February 1998 "Garage Sale"
I was planning to have a garage sale the following day at the Springcreek Drive House. My mother and my sister had arrived to help set things out and put prices on everything. The garage on the Springcreek House is connected to the House, in the rear, so it cannot be seen from the street. Nevertheless, even though we hadn't yet put up a sign announcing the sale, and even though the sale wasn't scheduled until the following day, people were already showing up and rummaging through the things in the garage, even before we could set the things outside. As I continued struggling to put prices on the items, I noticed one fellow hauling off a large blue vacuum sweeper. I asked both my mother and my sister whether they had sold the sweeper to the man, and both replied no. But then my sister remembered she actually had sold the sweeper. I turned back to the pricing.
Several tables were set up inside the garage with items piled on them. On one table were perhaps fifty-some tiny plastic replicas of ghosts, each about two centimeters tall. I seemed to vaguely remember once having owned a "Casper the Ghost" game, which had gotten lost, except for these plastic figures which had been included in the game. No price was attached to any of the little ghosts, which I thought should be sold all together. But I had no idea what price to put on them.
I wasn't much interested in how much money I made – I was just happy to clean out the garage. I could already see large areas of open space opening up in the garage, spaces which had been inundated with junk. Some trash which needed to be swept out was still lying around on the floor. But at least now I could see the floor.
I wondered who was taking the money for the items which people were buying. My mother had sat down in a chair at the back of the garage. She must be taking the money. She had put up a piece of masking tape on the clothes rack close to where she was sitting, which said "65 cents".
I walked over to her and asked her if she thought we ought to try to put price tags on everything. She abruptly replied, "I really don't give a damn"
I responded, "But don't you hate it when you go someplace and there's no signs saying how much things cost?
She answered, "Yes."
Nevertheless, it appeared as if she were unwilling to help any further with the pricing.
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