Last night I dreamt that
(Note: Although Seanan is a dear friend IRL, I have never been to her home, and have no idea how palatial and baroque her residence is. My house definitely is of the suburbia variety, right down to the brown curtains and wall-to-wall carpeting, neither palatial nor baroque. [Well, except for the human body parts leftover from my surgeries and the oddball antiques like my Dahomean tribal throne in the basement.])
Symbolism? Not much beyond the very obvious. Anxiety cues? None whatsoever. Entertaining? Absolutely.
Sometimes a dream is just a dream. And sometimes Seanan McGuire is just Seanan McGuire.