It was a water dream featuring Dad.
He and I lived in a house together. I was a teenager. Our house was pleasant and modern, with water features in the backyard.
We were going about the early morning with him talking to me about something as we were in the backyard. Hearing running water, I traced the source to a pipe sticking out of the house’s side beside the faucet. I’d never seen that on a house.
Water started flowing from it. I put my hand under it; it was was warm. I said, “Dad, I think something is wrong. There’s warm water coming out of this pipe.”
Dad said, “Yeah, we’d better check it out.” Then he went on about how he needed to go out and get something to eat. When he talked about the food, his choices appalled me. He was saying something about getting about a dozen sliders and I ended up asking him to get me a couple.
“But what about the water?” I asked.
“You take care of that for me,” he said.
I went into the house. Shock struck. Water was seeping out of everywhere. The kitchen floor was swollen with a huge lump in the middle. Horror seizing me, I thought, “This water is pent up and is going to burst, where are the valves, I need to shut the water off,” and ran to find the valves.
Dad returned (I don’t think he’d actually left but had been in another part of the house). I showed him the lump and leaks. I told him that I’d shut the water off. He said, “We’d better do something about that. Find someone to call.”
Ready for the pipes to burst, I dug out the phone book to call a plumber.
The dream ended.
Editing note: No, I didn’t get up and go to the bathroom.