Warehouse Home

I dreamed J and I had moved into the city. We were living on the second and third floor of a converted warehouse building. Inside the bottom floor, were two locked areas, one with N's old furniture and one with J's antique collection (at least, the stuff that wasn't being used in our home.) N came to visit on a day that we were having a huge party, she wanted to get some of her stuff out of storage. After deciding what things she was going to take and what she wanted tossed, we made our way back into the home. There was a stained glass door between the sitting room and the formal dining room, off one end of the dining room was another sitting room, this one with stairs up to the more private parts of the house, and two doors to the kitchen and a long front facing set of old offices now converted into various library and sitting rooms. There were stairs at the end (a spiral staircase) that went up to the loft area. We ended up chatting in the loft room, overlooking the road and the deli/butcher shop across the street. The butcher was just stepping out of his shop, so I called out to him. Turns out he was from Chicago and was an old friend of N's. He didn't recognize her at first (she'd let her hair go completely white and the usual wrinkle based age differences.)