I instantly knew something was up, of course.
However, we then went through the day doing perfectly normal things--visited a market, which was more local farmer's market than exotic crowded narrow alleys, stopped at some kind of shop for the moral equivalent of coffee, etc etc etc. When we arrived home, my father went to attend to something perfectly normal with the expectation he would be back in a moment.
That was when the (not at all handsome) retainer of somebody or other arrived with a large hair comb for me, which was apparently the local fashion of announcing one's engagement to a woman of the town.
Having had no inkling of this before, I slapped the retainer across the face with the hair comb and went off in a rage to find my father.
He was missing.
I instantly suspected the retainer's master, of course, although because this was a dream, I was aware, in a meta way, that in fact the father's kidnapping had *absolutely nothing* to do with my unexpected and unwanted engagement or the man I hadn't met to whom I was to be married. But the dream/novel-me had no idea, and went upstairs to determine that nope, Father wasn't there.
I immediately began to pack a small bag, intending to go out the window and search for my father. Inevitably, the retainer returned--this time with a woman who clearly belonged in the status of 'servant', but I'm not sure if she was my servant or his. The retainer was looking for my father as much as I was, and came upon me changing clothes. The woman was shocked, the retainer sensibly suspicious. I shoved him out of the room with some nonsense about getting ready to go with him, but he came back in immediately, saying he had to inspect me.
What, I wanted to know, the hell was he supposed to be inspecting me for? Signs of femininity? I was, I assured him, female. Virginity? He was going to have a hell of a time being certain of that without pressing the point, which he obviously wasn't going to. A lack of running away? Well, my grandfather was asleep right there in a chair in front of the window, how did he think I was going to get out of the house?
That was more or less the point at which Young Indiana woke me up, but it was a really startlingly clear and detailed dream, and it was *definitely* part of a Juliet E. McKenna novel...