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Last night I dreamed that I accidentally poured the wrong kind of milk over my cereal and caused a chemical reaction that made the milk and cereal expand exponentially. It ruined my parents' new carpet. (I'm 40 years old, so I'm not sure why I was having milk and cereal in my parents' house.)

I had a separate dream - a very vivid one - that I was living about 10 stories up in a residential hi-rise building. I heard some kind of engine noise outside the window, so I went over to see what I was hearing. A very large fighter jet was somehow hovering outside, and as soon as the pilot spotted me looking out the large floor-to-ceiling window, he brought the jet over to track me with his guns. I ran to the next room, and he swerved the jet over to target me through the windows again. I realized that none of the walls in my building were strong enough to stop whatever kind of bullets he was about to shoot at me, so I ran into the interior corridor where at least he couldn't target me visually. Large tracer bullets suddenly started ripping through the walls, and I dove behind the elevator bank, reasoning correctly that the elevator shaft was constructed of concrete and would provide some protection.

Not sure if this was a separate dream, or if the one I was having shifted, but suddenly I was in a hotel lobby looking for the elevator. The decor was very red - red carpet, elegant fixtures, roses on the tables, etc. I got into the elevator and it was way too small for my comfort. I hate extremely confined spaces. There almost wasn't enough room to turn around, and the ceiling was too low to even put your arms all the way up. I was very nervous that the elevator would get stuck, but it didn't. I got off on an upper floor for some reason, but it was just an L-shaped corridor with lots of locked doors, so I got back into the elevator to go back down. I walked outside the hotel, and suddenly I was a disembodied observer. A murder had occurred in the parking lot. For some reason, a transgendered person had just murdered a man by shooting him in the crotch, and a fashionable middle-aged blond woman was standing nearby. The transgendered woman was telling her to go before the police arrived, but she refused to leave because there was evidence tying her to the scene and she didn't want to seem guilty by fleeing. The middle-aged woman had nothing to do with the murder, but somehow the tip of her red high-heel was lodged in the man's chest.

A separate dream involved a vending machine in a bleak concrete hallway. I got the impression that it was attached to a parking garage. The machine dispensed snacks, drinks and instant STD test results. I was with a small group of people - I think we were out clubbing. I bought a can of coke with ice in it from the machine. The top was removable so you could drink it faster. (When I woke up later, I realized I was really thirsty in real life.) One of the dream characters I was with decided to buy an STD test, and she learned that she had crabs. The machine didn't dispense her change, and we had to call building maintenance to come open it up. I bought a snack from a second machine around the corner, and upon opening it, I realized that it was actually cat treats. I left them on a nearby table, and as I walked away, I realized that someone was probably going to come along and mistake them for dinner mints. I'd never do something so cruel in real life, but in the dream, I got a kick out of the thought.

In my dream, I was a paramedic working a school shooting scene. This is really odd to me in waking life, as I have no medical training and have never worked in the medical field. I remember walking in under a sign with the school name on it (can't recall now what it was) and thinking to myself, "Lots of people are going to wonder what it must have been like to be here in the aftermath, and here I am, not enjoying it at all." Once inside, I was taken aback at the large number of policemen, firemen, and paramedics, all just standing around, and I thought to myself, "These jerks are only here for a show. Their jobs gave them the excuse to answer the call, and here they are." And then I remember hoping I wouldn't get too much attention or requests for interviews.