I am in a very big house. Twice before I think, but this time I am only on the second floor of maybe three floors (the first time I recall being there it was in a large drawing room in the front of the house with large windows letting in the dusky light. The room was filled with things that used to belong to my dead grandmother-her thick Oriental carpet her large flowered vases-and the room smelled of her. It was a very stifling room and the feeling of death was almost palpable). Very spacious hallways lead into very spacious rooms. I'm here to get my guitar and once I have my guitar, Laurie Metcalf (actress who played Jackie on Roseanne) finds a painting that she painted and gives it to me to take out of here because she is angry that it isn't being appreciated. I am now burdened by a guitar (in a worn rectangular case) and a rather large oil painting (no frame, just the canvas, there are elegantly scripted words on the canvas but I cannot read them) and I am ready to go. I find my sister in a room staring at something and I tell her it's time to go. She doesn't respond and my mother tells me that she was ready to go but now she wants to listen to some band whose name I can't remember and that means that we have to keep a close watch on her because she gets depressed when that happens. My mother and I walk into a bright and foreboding room. It is a child's room. On the bed is a pile of fur with four legs sticking up in the air. I set down the guitar and painting (or perhaps earlier I gave them to Kathy or Laurie Metcalf) and pet the pile of fur. It is a cat. And one of those cats who do not liked being petted. It has light brown fur at its roots but ichor black fur at the tips. It looks like someone dipped it in oil. It has dark green eyes. Very angry eyes. As soon as I pet it, it begins to bite and scratch my hand. I then pull my hand back and exit the room. The cat follows, angry it’s been woken up. I pick it up and hold it to myself and it continues to thrash and try to bite and scratch me. I grab it by the scruff of its neck and throw it away from me and then I run into a different room to close the door to get away from it, but every room I enter has a large pile of books stopping the door from closing. The cat is scrambling towards me and rather than get stuck in a room with the cat, I wake up.