Last night, I dreamt I was a kid at my parents' house, playing in the yard with my friends. Like all good Catholic kids, we played mass. We set up pews and everything. One of the neighborhood girls (ever notice how in dreams you have friends you don't know, but it just feels natural?) had a pet troll. He was 8' tall, fuzzy, fat, round and stupid, but funny. He lumbered around the yard, smashing the altar, pews, shrubs, and my mother's dogwood tree, much to my and the other kids' delight. He sat on the hood of my father's brown (black?) Buick (wow, this is way back) and squished it.
I was afraid my father would be furious. Instead he shrugged and said, "Not to worry." He then turned on a pump and re-inflated the car until it was it's original size, the dents popping back into place with audible pings. I went inside to help him put the groceries away, and he had replaced our refrigerator with a newer model. It had a rotisserie inside, but the contraption meant there was less room to store actual food.