Well, it looks like her lack is my gain. Joy.
There was a killer, and I was looking for him. I spent a lot of time searching people's stuff - a cast of characters my brain made up for the dream, like a young doctor, a waiter, that sort of thing.
During this, I became friends with an old man named Herbert (the book I was reading had a man named that in it, so I suppose that's why he got such a stupid name). I think Herbert was a victim of the killer, like his son or daughter or something had been killed, and that's why I got to know him. He was an eccentric old man who always used the same carrying case when he traveled, or so he told me. Anyway, I agreed to house-sit for him while he went on vacation.
While doing this, I decided to search his stuff, just in case. I remember thinking, "I'll do it just in case, though I'm sure he's not killer...." Nothing seemed out of order, until I opened the closet and saw the carrying case, and realized he hadn't taken it with him. Which meant he wasn't really on vacation.
Which meant I'd been set up.
It was very horror movie; I saw the case, stared, and then KNEW he'd set me up and would be killing me sometime that night. I ran into the kitchen to call my mother and ask if I could stay there for the night (apparently this was taking place in Virginia). Right after saying hello, I saw someone coming, and proceeded to drop-kick him, my mother asking over and over, "What's wrong? What's wrong?"
It turned out the person I'd kicked was the neighbor boy, whose brother showed up too. I asked them about Herbert, and they got confused. "No one like that lives here. There used to be someone named Mr. Gumpy [damn children's books], but he disappeared." I started babbling to my mother, freaking out when one of the boys opened the fridge and unearthed bits of the late Mr. Gumpy frozen in ice.
Then I realized the phone was dead.
It was about then my subconscious decided it had had enough, and I woke up. Fortunately, it was about nine in the morning, so it was light out. I didn't really have any trouble getting back to sleep, but damn.
Why couldn't one of the brothers have pulled out a can of pepsi and/or a candy apple and saved me?