Everything in her house was pink. The chairs looked comfy, but they were hard on my butt, so I sat on the fluffy carpet instead. Closer inspection revealed peeling paint on the walls and that her home was not as luxurious as I initially thought when I first stepped inside. I take that to mean that appearances are deceiving, and that she is not who she pretends to be. Or maybe the dream was directed at me. I don't know.
Oh, and an open bottle of pink nail polish on the third step of a pink carpeted stairway.
