Freud, Without the Whole Sex Issue

I read once that Freud believed that all dreams represented scenarios that the dreamer either feared or desired, regardless of whether the dreamer was consciously aware of these feelings. I never felt that this analysis was particularly accurate with my own dreams that I remembered. It seemed like mine were usually made up of random images and ideas that had bombarded me throughout the day, with no underlying connection or meaning. Often, I'm not the main character in my dreams, but usually just an observer. That has been changing in recent months though. One thing in particular that I've noticed in my dreams recently is that very tiny details are slipping in that reflect the state of things in my conscious world in a surprising way. Last night for example, I dreamt that I was home for Thanksgiving and talking with some friends. I kept mentioning that I wanted to visit my grandmother before I went back to NYC. Towards the end of the dream someone finally told me that she had passed away a few years ago and that I couldn't go see her. This friend tried to hold my hand, which was shaking because I was so upset, and you know what I saw when I looked down at it? That the backs of my hands were dry and I needed to use more lotion. I also remember thinking that I didn't like this friend holding my hand because it tickled, something I often feel when I'm awake. There's no way I could have felt that sensation when I was sleeping. How strange that your mind incorporates these things into your dreams when there's really no necessity for it in the story line. I must have some kind of internal image of myself and my actions that I think reflect who I am, similar to that scene in the Matrix where Morpheus tells Neo that he's looking at a projection of himself as he knows himself to be. It seems like lately these detailed reflections of myself focus on areas that I'm not happy with (this obviously extends beyond some dry skin). However, when they're brought up in the dream, no one seems to mind them and I realize I'm upset over something that carries no real significance. Maybe this is a strange way of my subconscious telling me that I don't need to be afraid of my perceived shortcomings and should except who I am.