I dreamed I was with friends. We were kids. We were looking for a move theater. We were in some sort of large plaza, and we had gone down many stairs, and entered an arcade place and the games were mostly of racing, with very large screens. I really wanted to play, but my friends didn't, but I kept it to myself without telling them. Besides, the games used cards, not cash, it would have been a hassle.
We finally arrived to the cinema. I suddenly appeared in the backyard of my home in Puebla. My treehouse was still there. It was very beautiful and well constructed. As I explored the treehouse, I noticed some of it was rotten. I stress tested it and some stairs broke. We had a long discussion over if it should be redone with a ramp or with stairs. Somebody said that in certain part of the tree house mushroom spores could be planted, he said this with a wink.
We never came to a conclusion wether the stairs should be rebuilt with a ramp or with stairs. Two of my friends were foreign. I didn't know them. I was at awe with the beauty of the treehouse. I take this to mean that my essence is beautiful, but it needs some reparations done. Damage from rot was important but not extensive.