I was in the basement of my grandmother's house in Montreal. I was shooting at the figures of teenagers who walked into the laundry room, with a hardcover children's book. As I "fired" the book at the figures, they vanished. There were three hooded, purple robed people who I could not make disappear. I realized that these were the people I was here to save. My dad walked into the room and tore the edge off the book I was shooting with. "That's the barrel!" I yelled, but he didn't seem too concerned.
I skulked with the book upstairs. Guests in the living room took to muttering when they saw me. "Is that such-and-such book?" they were whispering. As I walked up to the second floor, the book tore and left pages all over the ground.
On the upper floor there was a line-up to go to the bathroom. I peeked in the bathroom and found a tiny kitten peeing. With this odd picture I...
Woke up with my neck and shoulders tense. A sure sign that I am a bit stressed.
Interpretation: Before I went to bed I had a bit of an argument with my dad. I was rather distraught so I put on the David User solo album and listened to it all the way through. It conjured up images of Montreal in my mind that lasted into the dream. When I woke up to the sound of my alarm, I scrambled to shut it off and in the process kicked a strange furry object on my bed. Yes, it was the family cat. (Don't worry, I didn't kick him hard.)