This post won't make sense without a little background. My youngest sister has a different mother who killed herself about ten years ago. It was quite an intense event for several reasons, but the creepiest part is that Darla (the deceased) attempted to take my then 7-year-old sister with her to the Eternal Waiting Room via drugs, wrist-cutting, and a drive into the lake.
So. The Dream.
I'm watching what might have happened had Darla taken a different path. She's much younger and doesn't seem to have a daughter. She's thin and healthy and excited about getting a new job. She takes her boyfriend, who is not my father but someone younger, to help decorate her new cubicle. She is all smiles as she rolls out a red and tan Persian rug.
I was just an observer in that little blurb. I once dreamed she was back in my family and everyone had forgotten what she'd done. I was like a child, afraid of her and unable to think of how I could remind my Dad before the whole damn thing repeated itself. She seemed to be remorseful and forgiven by someone with more power than me.
In another dream, she's soaking wet and staring up at my window. The image was in black and white. If I think back over the dreams I've had in my lifetime, I can't recall any others so completely devoid of color.