I had a weird dream last night. I lived in a house almost like the one I'm in now, only livable, and a whole bunch of people started arriving for some function (which I was only incidently involved with). I started walking down the road, which turned into a stone corridor with gorse bushes, and ended up at a friend's room. It was twenty foot tall, and had an entire wall of books, and an entire wall of windows. Quite beautiful. Ended up meandering down another corridor, through which a murderer was running. I ended up saving a friend by wrestling the gun out of the murderer's hand, then turning it on him. I woke up as the shot was fired.

It's been chewing on my heart for awhile, the dream has, I mean. And I'm not entirely sure why. I mean, I know why it eats at me, but I don't know why I can't shake it.