After travelling abroad, my wife and I decided to move to another planet.
We packed the house (the literal house, not just our things) into a decently-sized star freighter. It was blocky, but roomy and agile in the atmosphere above earth.
That star freighter was taken inside a dock near the “foot” of an immensely large star ship, with a robotic dragon head containing many ion cannons. It was a battle-ready craft, probably a kilometer long. It was colored red and green.
The dragonship curled itself into a ball and attached itself to an exponentially larger ship, so massive you couldn’t see from end to end from any observation deck.
That ship powered up and begin the trip through some sort of alternate space – the warp, or something like it. It was blue and hazy, like being underwater, and no stars were visible in its brightness. As the ship moved though this passage, the dragonships detached and went to their respective worlds.
Our dragonship split into dozens of smaller ships – including the freighter carrying our house. Cannons blazed in the black above a garden world. It seems a battle was at hand.
Where was I? I was in a commercial center on board the dragonship, where clean hallways went around fountains, smoothly upholstered couches (with nary a seam to be seen), and shops. My mother and wife were refusing to believe I could sing the high notes from “Come Sail Away” by Styx.
I proved them wrong, and I sang the whole damn song (which I haven’t heard in years) while the fleet-ship attacked the enemy in the upper atmosphere of the strange planet. I hit every note.
My son woke me from this dream to tell me of his own nightmare:
He was at the store with mommy. He fell down on the street and his foot (his left foot, he was very specific), broke apart and he could see his skeleton. Blood was dripping. He could only walk on his right foot.
Then the doctor was at our house, and he was hopping around, favoring his skeleton foot, trying to find a secret door somewhere.