Gma and Penny

I had a dream about my Gma last night. My dad's mom, because those of you in the know would know a dream about Mae wouldn't end well.
I had a dream that she was still living in the house on High street that my dad grew up in. She was sitting in a chair watching TV.
In my dream I moved in. I sat in a chair beside her.
In my dream, people came over to visit and take a tour of the house. I got up out of my chair and walked them through the house and showed them all the stuff, I showed them the knick knacks, the clothes, the pictures, the cookie jar, the bathtub, the way to open the cabinets in the kitchen.
I showed them how to push the buttons that turned the lights off and on. We opened the door to the porch that was in Gma's bedroom, that was never opened when I was there in reality. I pulled out the manual vacumn and showed my friends how to vacumn the carpet without disturping the sleeping dog. We took the lid off the white bumpy candy dish and ate some of the candy.
I showed them how to sit on the foot of the bed and flip backwards, they thought it was fun too.
I showed them how her dog Penny sat on the vents and her ears flapped in the wind.
I showed them the basement and the tornado door that we exited out of.
For the first time in my life I walked up the stairs to the second floor from the inside and showed them the upstairs that was so mysterious and off limits when I was a kid.
I showed them the garage with the packed dirt floor that we would play in when we weren't supposed to.
I walked them down the street to the part of the sidewalk that was all tipped and cracked, where I fell off my bike everytime I rode over it.
I showed them the other parts of the sidewalk that were so smooth. I told them about when I was a kid I would imagine that those parts of the sidewalk were somehow thousands of years old and had been smoothed by the flood, snow, and constant playing on it of kids through the years.
I showed them the way the sofa would convert to a sofa bed, I pulled the collapsable dollhouse down from the top shelf in the closet and showed them how fun it was to build it and pretend.
We found Penny's blue ball with the bell and played with her for awhile outside. We took Penny for a walk.
I walked them across the yard to Mrs. Gulliano's house where we were fed spagetti and drank glasses of milk that were taller then us. I went upstairs in Mrs. Gulliano's house and took a nap, while my friends stayed downstairs. I fell asleep to the mumers of good friends sharing their life over coffee.

I didn't want to wake up this morning. I miss my Gma. I miss her house on High street even though she hadn't lived there for probably 15 years or so by the time she died. I missed the way the house smelled, the way the floor sounded when you walked on it. I missed the cool dampness of the garage and basement, the sound of the dishwasher being pulled over to the sink to wash the dishes. I missed the orange moppy looking thing in the corner and the jingle of Penny's collar when she ran through the house.
I missed knowing that it was okay to laugh and be silly. I missed that complete assurance that you are loved even if you're being naughty.
I missed my Gma.