Apart from messing with my sleep schedule, DST also had some weird effect on my dreams the first couple days.

Monday was about walking through a house that my dad had built, so I had seen it during the process of being built, and was admiring the finished product, particularly the kitchen with the 20-foot tall refridgerator. The house was supposedly occupied, but the only ones home at the time were the owners great dane and chihuaua, both of which talked. I know this because they told me where the owners were and when they’d be back.

Tuesday was less whimical. For some reason my whole team at work was in a house on a military base, and it became evident at some point this guy was a serial killer. I manage to run out and escape, but everyone else is left still inside. I run off, not looking back.

Flash forward, and I’m attending some party at the office, and someone mentions changes being made to my floor. We go upstairs, and all that’s left of the floor is some metal framing and piles of sheetrock. This seems to spark a memory of the incident at the house, and I run over, since it’s conveniently only a mile away or so.

I arrive at the house and I’m greeted as Lieutenant by personnel already moving into the house. I go down into the basement, and find a bookcase full of letters and journals that the serial killer had made all his victims, including my team, fill out with their last thoughts and farewells to their families. There’s also a book along with the journals that’s professionally published about the serial killer, and it has a soundtrack CD inside it. I put the CD on, sit on the floor, and start going through the journals.

Funny thing, I was more surprised about the changes to the office than the journals.