The ghost of Meryl Streep is chasing folks around this house. Secluded out in the woods, over-looking a lake (with mountains in the distance), the house has to rhyme or reason to its arrangement or structure; its corridors go any which way. Myself and a woman acquaintance race around the halls in the middle of the night, the skin-and-bones visage of Meryl Streep not far behind. We will duck out of doors, wait for the apparition to follow, then quickly duck back in trying to lock her out. She always seems to be one step ahead of us.
Later, I make my way down to the basement to discover my dad and brother (S.) sorting a box of chocolates according to some esoteric Lovecraftian code. There are frog-shaped chocolates filled with some green syrup and deer-shaped chocolates and many others shaped like cubes, discs… The two of them hand one of the boxes over to me (saying it’s basically finished being sorted) and ask that I give it to my mom.
I wander the halls and eventually find her in one of the other basement hallways. She is coordinating a small group of young men (ages 18-24) as they move furniture and other large items from room to room. One room is definitely the focal point of the commotion. Each of the young men has been told something different about what is going on (i.e., “my sister is moving in”, “so-and-so’s girlfriend is moving in”, “this is going to be my room”, etc.). My mom just laughs and tells me that I should probably use the bathroom before they shut off the water; “You need to go to the store anway.”