Cats.

I dreamt I was wondering through the darkness of York's cobbled streets. It was cold, misty and dark. I eventually came to a back alley that looked familiar; it was my own. I crept to the back gate and let myself into the yard. There were at least 50 cats, of all colours and species, slinking around amongst a mound of rubbish. Ruth my housemate was there.
"Maybe," she said "Maybe, we could take care of them all. I'm sure Ron wouldn't mind."
I agreed. I love cats. I began to help her carry them into our house. I was already thinking about the mound of cat litter and cat food we'd need to get.

Time Travel.

I dreamt I was a time traveler. I had decided to visit my primary school back in 1995. I saw my old friends out in the yard playing with skipping ropes in their summer blue dresses. I couldn't see myself yet. I wondered into the school, into the infants hall. My shoes squeak and slipped on the polished oak floor. I walked back into the corridor where children ran up and down, to the toilets, laughing and pushing each other. I followed the corridor back out into the yard where I saw myself standing and crying with a boy. I looked a little closer. That boy, with his white blonde hair, his tallness and his frustrating determination was my brother. This memory I was watching was one of many; he was taking his place as my older brother and comforting me. I watched my younger self point out to a child (who must have pushed me or taunted me) and my brother glare and frown.
I stood back watching despairingly at this situation realising that I couldn't change anything that would happen in the future.
I woke up crying.

Cowboy.

I was at the Conservative club near by where I grew up. There was a DJ but no one else was around. After a while of waiting a man walked through the door. He was wearing an expensive suit and his hair was neatly slicked back. He was lean, tanned and handsome. It dawned on me that this guy was Patrick Bateman. I needed to get out, so I climbed out of a window.
I was facing a beautiful, white American suburban house with a white picket fence. This house was grand, perfect and sinister. I walked into the empty house to look around. I knew that was a bad idea. I crept into the living area where to my utter horror (ironically) a dead boy was hanging from the light. I had to get out, escape. I ran for the front door but it was locked. As I struggled with the handle I heard a thud. The rope had snapped. I stood, locked to the spot in terror. Thud. He was after me.
I ran up the stairs. I needed to get to safety. Thud. All the rooms were either locked or empty. Thud. He was getting closer. Finally I broke into one of the rooms. This room was a boy's room, completely decorated in a western themed wallpaper and toys. I ran to the window to get out. Thud. I couldn't open the window. Thud. He's in the room. Thud. A horrible rattling, rasping breathing noise filled the room. Thud. I turned around. The child stood before me white and dead. I was terrified he'd take my soul.

Gathering darkness.

I felt intoxicated. I was stumbling down a hallway. I was conscious of a darkness that was gathering around me and I was afraid of it. I began to run, but it felt like I was running from a storm. As I ran through the hallway I vaguely noticed that the walls were covered in doors and clocks of all sizes. I wanted to get out badly. I became dimly aware that maybe, just maybe this was a dream.
Finally, I broke out of a door at the end of the corridor and out into the open air. Outside it was nearing dawn. I was at a river bend. The water looked like liquid silver. I began running by the river, feeling free.