I was a young girl with longish fair hair. (Or was I watching a film about a young girl? Bloody film dreams!) I’d been adopted by a kindly couple and was arriving home with them permanently after months of visits and discussions, during which I’d kept thinking they would change their mind. There was every opportunity for them to decide I was too much trouble – or if not I, then the adoption process. My new father in the dream was my real-life dad, although much younger, which he would be seeing as I was more than twenty years younger myself. I sobbed with relief, my new mother watching me gently, as I looked around at the smallish living room, the oak-furnished kitchen where I now lived and could not be sent away from.
I’d say the meanings of this dream are fairly self-explanatory: longing for love, wanting parental protection, wanting a second chance at childhood, wishing my childhood / parents had been different. In particular, it’s only in relatively recent years that my real-life dad and I have come to understand each other better and be close; hence me wishing us both younger again, so that we could get to know each other with more years, and my adulthood, still ahead of us.