The nice one was very nice. To start with, Dad and Margaret were fully healthy. They were not living in a nursing home, but were instead helping out there, volunteering to assist the residents. But the nicer part, perhaps, was that I kept almost calling Margaret "mom," as in "Dad and Mom" instead of "Dad and Margaret." So I finally just told her that sooner or later I would accidentally call her that, so she might as well be ready. I think she was pleased.
The frustrating dream was kind of amusing, though. Paul and I were walking about the countryside and there were fences everywhere. We were talking about the apocalypse, hoping that before humans exited we would tear down all these darn fences so that the animals could get around OK. Then we went to a pizza place. There the barrier theme continued (as well as the apocalyptic one, depending how you feel about pizza). There were glass partitions that you couldn't get past to get to where you order. Paul climbed over. I managed to find a spot where I could squeeze between. The space was maybe an inch wide. In real life, I'm at least probably at least six inches thick, but hey, it's a dream. Maybe I disarticulated. Never did get any darn pizza.