I am in a kitchen crowded with boxes, perhaps with other people, in a house which is down the street from my house. One of the boxes contains a board game with a name that begins with "Blue". I leave the kitchen and return to my own house down the street, entering by the back door into the bedroom. The house is like an old castle, dark and damp with big empty rooms, but it is situated like my former home in Auburn. I putter around a bit, moving a few wooden boxes, but it feels as though I don't accomplish much.
Going back out to the driveway I get in my car to drive away but sheets of plywood are scattered over the ground, along with a large but low frame made of wood, maybe like an empty sandbox. It is difficult for me to avoid running over the plywood but I think I make it out of the driveway. I walk back down the street to the other house and when I look through the open door into the kitchen I see that all the boxes have been removed. Tim and his father are working on an addition to the room, nailing up sheets of plywood on the walls and ceiling, and I am amazed at how much they have completed in the short time that I have been gone.
Reflecting on the dream immediately afterwards in a half-awake state, I suddenly realize that the reason I became a Christian after staying with Tim's family was not because of the love they shared but because of how much they were able to accomplish together because they were competent adults, and I was not.

The two houses represent on the one hand the two phases of my Christian experience - the first beginning with my visit to Tim's family in Lebanon and concluded after college, and the second a few years after college when I returned to Christianity, became a Seventh-day Adventist and spent the next three decades as a Christian adult married to Susan and living at the house in Auburn. As the condition of the house in the dream implies, the Christianity that I adopted was an inhospitable environment in which I was unable to function emotionally as an adult. Or something like that.
The amazing insight which I gained shortly after the dream felt more prosaic by the light of day. Tim's father did impress me with his accomplishments - as a father, as a Christian, and even as a handyman - but also with the love that he shared with his wife and family. In his house plywood was the material from which he built a life; in mine it was just a mess obstructing my passage out of the driveway, though I think that the dream takes an overly negative view of my accomplishments, just as I myself have done for much of my life.