This one had a twist. My father was still alive, but had been hiding someplace for 20 years. Instead of being happy to see him, I berated him for having let us think he was dead the whole time. I told him about my dreams: "I thought I was dreaming you were still alive because I could not accept your death, but now I realize the real reason is that you actually were alive the whole time!" He had reappeared, but we didn't really have time for a conversation. I had to go someplace and back before my 11 a.m. class.
The owner of the piano studio where I take lessons yesterday gave me the key to the place so I could play his superb new grand piano on weekend and when nobody else was around. It was very nice of him and I hadn't even asked him for it, or even thought about asking.
Anyway, this bit of waking life also worked itself into the same sequence of dreams. I went there, but then realized I had to go another floor. There was a woman playing some kind of spinet, and I was waiting there patiently for her to finish.