Complex in Dream

One of the first dreams I ever recall gave me a complex.

In my dream I was in this gorgeous, Tudor home. With polished oak floors, white, distressed furniture, suede camel-colored couches and silver accents. Minimalist skylights. Extremely fucking tasteful for a six-year-old.

Anyway. I’m coming out of the kitchen in this bubblegum pink dress with cartoonified portraits of Marylin Monroe. My shoes, pink platform ballet flats.  As I walk into the foyer, a man who I now know as Isaac Mizrahi, walks in and gives me an approving once over. I approach him but as I do, I realize there’s some sort of pulley/lever system in the dress, which hikes the skirt up as I move closer towards him.  Isaac continues to look pleased.

“What’s going on? Why is my dress doing this?” I plead.
Isaac says, “Oh, honey. That’s so when the boys get bored of you they at least have something to look at.”

At least I’m pretty confident I’ll age okay, right?

Dream

I had a dream last night where these people from distant planets somehow came into contact with me.  In our conversation it is apparent they are human like me with nothing extraterrestrial about them.
They go on to say that the world has continued to recycle itself for billions of years, describing that all humanity is killed in such process.  However, they tell me that humanity usually has a technological upper hand by the time the world turns over.  It was in this case that humans leave to other planets to live while the cycle of humanity starts again from scratch.