In my dream we went back to a church we used to attend. We came at a wrong hour, in between or during. Were in an antechamber of some sort, not desirous to interrupt. Eventually were recognized but not with any warmth. I then found out I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt.
How I came to be dressed that way I do not know. It seemed a mistake I wasn’t guilty of. But who could I blame but myself?
Then we were waiting, waiting for the right time to start, and that was in the discretion of the pastor. He eyed me from the kitchen as he drank tea and waited darkly. And the congregation waited till the pastor should decide the time right to start. And I, of course, waited and could say nothing.