I am in a place like a cafe / art gallery where I seem to be a part-owner. I am looking at all the art on the walls and figuring out how to hang it better. I am very sad because Won-Ton has passed away. Suddenly my deceased father shows up, looking extremely mournful. He is wearing very baggy, ill-fitting spotless white formal attire (tailcoat, vest, trousers and shirt) and a small black bow tie, and he has come all the way from the city where he was born, where the funeral service for Won-Ton was held. He is there at the cafe to console me and hand me the box of her ashes.
We go in search of a private room to talk. There are several small rooms in the back of the cafe but most are unsuitable for us. One of these rooms is an office where a man is talking on the phone. He interrupts his call to say he would be very glad to let us use the room for as long as we need, it would be no trouble at all. He is very polite and understanding of the circumstances for us and wants to help us any way he can. I say I do not want to trouble him, and I poke my head into yet another small room which seems like a better place to talk because it is not someone's office and it has a couple of easy chairs. My father wants to use the office but I want to use the smaller room. I really do not want to deal with any of this at all but I have no choice, so I might as well find a room that would be the most comfortable to use.
I wake up before we can reach a decision on which room to use.