Sensing Feeling in Dreams

DH and I were exploring/cleaning out a new house. The thing seemed endless, and when it came to be night, we put our son to sleep in an adjacent room and kept working awhile before retiring. In the middle of the night, I felt chilly and wanted to check on our son, but DH said he put a blanket on him and moved him to a bed just beside us. I glanced over and saw our son laying peacefully sleeping with a blanket and our cat curled up on the blanket as well.
When I woke up in the morning, though, our son was gone and DH said that they were playing in the next room. My cat was on the bed with me, now. I got up to check on them but, as I entered, DH said our son had crawled in to the hall or something.
“Isn’t he hungry?” I said, with a distinct feeling of anxiety, I began looking for our son. I couldn’t hear him, I only just called to him and searched the seemingly endless house.
Then people began to show up. I’m not sure why. They were not at all concerned that I was looking for my son. DH didn’t seem to be around anymore. But strange people kept pouring into the house. Room after room, corridors, hallways, entryways, courtyards, I looked and spoke with people but they all seemed very distracted and disinterested in me and what I was doing.
The courtyard was cold when I walked out. There were about 6 or 7 little children out there playing and an old person watching them. “Have you seen my son?” I asked the attendant, scanning the children for him. He didn’t answer, and my son wasn’t there. “Isn’t it too cold for them?” I asked the attendant again, seeing that many of them were shivering.
“Didn’t want them to get in the way in there,” the attendant pointed at the busy house.
“Well I’d rather the kids go in and boot out the adults if they’re in the way.” I told him. I felt that I had some kind of influence bc it was my house. But they didn’t move the kids.
I left them because I was still in search of my son. When I entered again, I found myself in a hot, steamy kitchen area with 2 bustling, dirty chefs. And it stank. Like the smell was disgusting and I was immediately repulsed by it. Immediately I wanted to leave, but turned to find the way I’d come was difficult to maneuver. Just check quickly I thought, still wanting to leave. The only other way out was past the cooks. I sidled that way, and asked the cooks if they’d seen my son. They didn’t answer but the man- there was a man and a woman cook- said to me rough, demanding way “Here! Take it!” and he swung something at me that looked, smelled, and felt disgusting. It slapped against my right side and arm. There was a trash bin next to me, into which I flung the gross refuse. I then washed off the awful stain from my skin with a sprayer.
There was a scene where I was in the entryway and people all around- some kind of antique food wagon stood in the corner. Mostly ladies there, were making small talk and busily distracted. They seemed immune to my worry about finding my son.
Another scene, when I found an interesting flight of stairs which I followed up, only to find that they dead-ended on a terrace that was entirely taken up by a decorative pond and fountain. I could hear the water’s continuous movement, but hadn’t heard or sensed it at all on the stairs just behind me.