I remember dreams from the age of 3. I can be specific because of the ramifications. A green version of a man who scared me but I liked him. I called him my green Daddy, talked about him often enough for my Dad (who worked nights at the time) to question my mum!
After my beloved Nan died I was around 10y, I regularly dreamt of her house which morphed onto other homes we lived in. I would walk through them endlessly, ending up either with a feeling of happiness or melancholy.
How do you acknowledge Easter.