I'm in the kitchen, only in real life I don't have a kitchen. A big, scary Klingon is there. I don't know why he's there, but it's a fearsome situation. He's an intruder, an invader, a menace. So I pick up some sort of makeshift weapon, something short but sharp, and stab the Klingon, killing him.

There is blood everywhere, and I don't know what to do, because it dries almost immediately on the white kitchen tiles, especially in the cracks in between them. It becomes that dry, flaky stuff that blood dries into. I scrape at it, but no matter what I do, the stains are still there.

I rarely dream, and I ended up forgetting much of this one because my alarm clock went off, jarring me awake too suddenly. But I remember the important parts.

I was visiting my grandmother's house (and watching an episode of "Ally McBeal-- apparently, she'd unexpectedly filled out enough to resemble a real woman instead of a stick with lips). My little brother came over to visit, and we went out to sit in my car and talk. All of a sudden, it started to rain. In fact, it was raining so hard, you could see giant schools of fish swimming around outside!

After a while of enjoying this spectacle, I realized that I'd left my grandmother's screen door open, and there was a chance that some of this torrential rain could have gotten inside her house. So we ran for the house, dodging around scores of happy fish, half-expecting to find the whole house flooded, but when we got inside, everything was fine. What a relief! Grandma would've been so angry to find a school of tuna swimming in her linen closet!

Then the phone rang, resolved itself into the alarm clock, and I had to get up.

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