I was standing in a large Victorian house that doubled as a mental ward. I wandered from room to room, watching the "crazy people" shuffle around me, feeling waves of uneasiness synchronized with waves of complete comfort and surety.

I walked into a room with several beds, one large plush queen-sized bed that was, well, fit for a queen. It sat high on its frame and dominated the room. A young, "paranoid skitzophrenic" girl with dark, pin-straight hair peeked out from underneath the dust ruffles. Though I was not surprised by her sudden emergence from under the bed, I was alarmed by her eyes that moved around in opposite circles as she spoke to me. She spoke beautifully, though. Her voice was kind and delicate. I felt desperate to help her. I told her I would find her medication because I was certain that would cure her. I wandered off in search of the tiny processed pebbles that would ease her mind into sanity.

I looked out the window of the second story of the house and there was a giant animal resembling an oversized deer, with antlers fit for a moose, resting on its side under the window. I thought it was dead, so I spit on it to test out my theory. He jumped up and snorted at me, not unlike a raging bull. He was very angry. He rammed the window, burst through the glass and wood and plaster. I ran. I could hear the pounding hooves and heavy panting in my ear.

I woke up before he could catch me.