Two quite different dreams, with a strange connection...
Birds. There is a bird's nest in the eaves, with young nestlings, clamoring for food. The mother is a finch of some kind, I imagine, but it seems there is an outsider in the nest--a cuckoo? Not identifiable as such. To the rescue comes a blue jay, expertly removing the young one with an elegant flutter of wings, and flying with it who knows where, but I think to safety. I run in to my mother to ask her to come out to take a look at this remarkable scene. Yes, actually my mother, now gone these many years. I cannot ever remember having dreamed about her before.
An art theft. An expert gang of thieves have arrived to steal every piece of art from the walls of the house. They are all dressed similarly and, strangely, they are French. Their leader directs operations with casual efficiency. Here's the really strange part, though. The house, with its distinctively creaking back stairs--the thieves must be careful not to awaken the occupants--is clearly the rectory at Aspley Guise, where we lived as a family during World War II.
So that's the connection. My mother, the house where we lived as children... As usual, I haven't the slightest idea what these two dreams might be about. But vivid, in the way dreams are, in high definition cinematography.