The animals had become intelligent and turned against us.

I was in an old building, perhaps in Hong Kong, looking out the window. There were bees flying against the window. I looked again, and they had all grabbed hold of a long metal rod and were smashing it against the window. It suddenly broke through the glass. I winced. A seagull flew down and picked up the rod and swooped at the window, and I ran away down the hallway.

I tried to follow my friends and their family as we fled for safety. I lost almost everyone, but I remember standing at the top of stairs leading into the subway and then following the matriarch with dyed orange hair downstairs in the sunlight.

Rahul said we were going to move into Fountain Park with members of his group, because Tara had just bought an apartment there for $35,000. I got really angry as I was walking around the apartment complex. It looked like the Haste St. apartment, but darker and dingier, really depressing, and it was up at 10th and the Bypass, not close to anything. There was a huge central swimming pool with a whale in it. I saw Grace and Emily as I was walking down the hall. They were living there too.

In another part of the dream, I was visiting friends who had joined a Christian cult. I forget who else was there, but I know Tiffany was.

I had two sisters and an autistic brother. I was home to visit. We got in some kind of argument, I think, and I was getting ready to leave. I went to make up with my brother. He was making a lovely painting (or perhaps it was a drawing with thin black outlines): huge, dark evergreen trees in a Russian forest towering up to more than half the height of the canvas, and then, far below, down below the branches, tiny, elegantly dressed, Edward Gorey-esque figures. “I may not always be good to you, but isn’t that what sisters are for?” I said to him, and then we were hugging each other very tight and I said “I love you very much.” I felt that he loved me, he might have said it too, although this behavior all seems pretty uncharacteristic of an autistic person.

People were being turned into zombies by UV rays. “It’s inevitable,” said an expert, “but depends on how much you’ve gotten and how filtered it was.” I was sitting in a restaurant on the end of a long pier, with wooden walls hung with nautical ropes and canvas, and large windows. I looked down the pier at a corner store and calculated how much damage I would take by running down to stock up on canned goods and supplies.