I dreamed that for one month, just one month, I needed to live in an apartment and leave my home in the Hill Country vacant. When I went back after that month with a friend to see how things were going, I stepped inside and there were huge insects everywhere.
The floor was thick with half-inch long ants, carrying their egg clusters and larvae from one wall in the living room to the opposite wall. There were roaches as long as my finger crawling all over the walls. I crunched my way into the kitchen, and enormous beetles were devouring something dead in a corner. Moths as big as bats kept running into my head. Only half of the lights worked, so there were thousands more scurrying things than I could even identify, covering floors, walls, ceilings, everything.
Every article of furniture I'd left behind was riddled with holes and infested by vermin. My couch was a total loss. I didn't even want to open the closets to inspect the clothes I'd left there. Opening any of the kitchen cabinets was right out. I decided my best option was just to burn the place down.
Then people started showing up. There was a group of guys that had been squatting there, and using my home as a place to stash the exotic animals they were selling illegally. They brought in three big cats that looked like lynxes, except they were longer-legged, bigger, and their fur was silky and golden, with no spots. One of them saw me, and came bounding up to me to attack, but I subdued it, and the men ran off.
Next a friend I hadn't talked to in a while pulled up in an ancient pick up truck. Turns out she was also using the place as a stash for drugs she was selling. Her supplier showed up wanting payment, got mad that I was there, and shot her. Then his gun jammed, so he attacked me with a huge sort of lance. I grabbed the pointy end as he jabbed it at me, and drove it into the wall. The end he held had a saw-toothed blade, and I managed to angle it up so it caught him in the throat. I could feel, all the way down the length of the lance, the sickening grate of blade against bone as the blade went all the way through his neck, and I decapitated him.
My friend who had been shot was unconscious, and the friend I'd brought with me helped me get her back into her truck. Our own car had been engulfed by the insect swarm. We got the truck into neutral and rolling down the driveway, but we couldn't find the key to get it started. We managed to pull into a little town just up the road, because it was all down hill. By that time, the truck's owner was awake, but refused to let us use her truck, not even to get her to a hospital.
So we got out in the town and she drove herself off. We found an old woman and asked her for help. she told us to hop into her own pick up truck, which was the size of a smart car and made out of porcelain. She took us to the guy who had sold it to her, and he went off on his sales pitch about three antique cars he'd fixed up. He rattled off a bunch of letters and wouldn't tell us what they meant. I tried to call my mom to come get us, but couldn't get a hold of her. I finally told the guy I couldn't spend more than $1000, and he said he had a Trans Am I could have for that, but it wasn't in the best shape. Then I woke up.
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