So, a guy my parents' age, back when I was in my 20-30's (I'm 62, my parents have been dead for 15-20 years), I was thinking/feeling about him the same as I thought of my parents friends then, came to my house (or office where I lived?) at 3:00-4:00 in the morning and woke "us" up and I'm turning on lights and making him welcome and felt it was fine/expected, I "knew what to do". He wanted bourbon with milk (my parents drank bourbon and I was thinking about bourbon and milk just a couple days ago with a friend) and I was telling my husband to use the half-and-half (which I have in my refrigerator now, an ingredient in a chowder I'm making tonight for dinner) and I'm bustling around.

Then I wanted to go to an upper floor, something like wanting to take a walk around the block would feel, no specific reason, there might have been an open roof area or shopping center up there, and got in the wood-grained/paneled elevator by myself and was shooting up quite fast and suddenly it broke, stopped very jarringly and I felt frustration and annoyance; I was getting ready to push the red button to sound the alarm and woke up instead. It was like I was going to miss what was happening where I "should" have been, down with my husband and guest.