Morning of June 3, 2015. Wednesday.
In my dream, I am going into the (completely unfamiliar) bathroom. I feel very dirty and shakily moan dramatically and wearily, almost like performing a very brief guttural song (almost as a trance in soliloquy), about being in "The Zone" as if "The Zone" meant that I was like a drug-using homeless person or 1960s hippie, being completely undesirable and problematic in apparently the worst way a person can be and as dirty as a living thing can physically be, just on the edge of being disease incarnate. It is frustrating as such and I remove everything I am wearing as quickly as possible with only minor difficulties in getting my pants legs off from around my heels before I throw my pants, shirt, and socks aside with utter disgust. The bathroom is very large (about eight times the size of our real one). To my left (where I am near the toilet) is a small bathtub I think about washing down in as soon as possible. However, the bathtub is ludicrously small to where I could probably only sit in it with my knees up against my chin. Still, I look to the far right of the room (near the entrance) and "remember" that we have at least three or four spare bathtubs in a pile near the corner. However, I am annoyed at the idea of having to install a different one - and besides, they do not look all that much bigger than the other one. I certainly do not want to stay as I am but am not sure what to do yet do not feel like messing around with wrenches and pipes.
I wake up after this and immediately have a hot shower, directly followed by a cold one (I have a few showers a day year-round, “extra” ones being very short, often just to cool off in this near-unlivable climate).