Two years ago, after grasping at many plausible solutions (therapy, muscle relaxants, acupuncture, etc.) I was prescribed psych meds for chronic belching (symptomatic of anxiety, turns out). In addition to making me hornier, these also made my dreams vivid, operatic, but instantly forgettable on waking. They did little to address the belching, which has since become a mild habitual somatic background event.
As beautiful as those dreams were, I missed having dreams I could recall, as well as the ability to readily recall names (of people I didn't know, fortunately), so I spent June titrating down off the meds until I could safely do without them.
Last night asleep on the couch with the dog I dreamt about Nay and somehow we patched things up. It was exactly the sort of dream I'd been missing: a person I knew, a situation I didn't, a dream that offered a closure I couldn't approach in real life with either a surrogate parent or an actual one. (I don't dream about my parents anymore, thank goodness; in those dreams I was only ever trying to kill them with my bare hands.)
Nay often fantasized about life in a cabin in the woods. I know that I realized this house for the dog more than for myself, but I also suspect that he was not the only one I was trying to make a home for.