Need to disable auto defrag

I know I dreamed. I know who was in it. There were even a couple of elements that I retained. It's just that my damned brain does this auto defrag program before I wake up, and all the conscious memories are tucked back into their little storage areas in zip files, and I don't seem to possess the key.

I was in a room in a well lit room in a house or apartment somewhere. There were a couple of twin beds in the room, and my mom and Greg were present. My mom was lying on one of the twin beds, and I wanted to lie down, but there wasn't enough room. I glanced over at the other bed, and Greg was lounging comfortably on it. 

He looked to be about 35, the age I remember him any time I think about him. I usually picture my mom at age 28, which seems ridiculously young now that I'm 57. I have a picture of her on her 28th birthday, smiling after blowing out the candles on her birthday cake, that I've kept in a tiny frame since I was a child.

Nothing else occurred in this dream that can remember. 

In a separate, less eventful dream with even less detail, Paul from group, a silent, solitary man of 70, was making beer at home. He was using the bottle fermentation method, where you put all the ingredients directly in the bottle in carefully measured amounts, hoping they don't overpressurize and explode. A lady was coaching him as he placed adhesive labels on the products before shelving them for the required amount of time.

"Now, Paul," she said, "this is going to be a test for you. No drinking this stuff until the date you've written down, or you know what will happen."

"I know," he said.

I don't know what would have happened, other than it would likely have been a very yeasty and unsatisfying experience, with beer issuing forth like a fire hose upon opening the bottle. 

That had been my experience at least, when I employed a similar home brewing technique in my garage in Paradise. Cases of the stuff had to be thrown out with the precision delicacy of a bomb squad handling nitroglycerin explosives wired with a mercury tilt switch. We became aware of this danger one warm day in April, when the contents of one of the cases became so volatile that bottles began spontaneously erupting, shattering the glass in with a loud boom that could be heard from inside the house. 

Dummy perched atop a case of Krakatoa Ale