Last night I dreamed I was in the kitchen, in my pajamas, in the dark, walking towards the back door for some reason. And as I did, I heard someone opening the storm door. In the dream, I wondered if this was why I had gotten up in the first place–that I had heard something by the back door. The storm door makes a distinctive sound. I opened the door to see who it was, but it was pitch dark out there. The storm door was open, but I thought it might have just come unlatched. Then I saw something perhaps more solid than the dark holding the storm door open and thought, I better put the light on, because I won’t see otherwise. I realized I didn’t have my glasses on so it was going to be hard to make anything out, but I assured myself that there was nothing there anyhow. I was turning to reach for the switch when the thing holding open the storm door started to come into the house. I could see in the light from the streetlight that it was a canine creature, maybe seven feet tall and very solid, standing on its hind legs. It had brown and black fur that was quite coarse and a very large head somewhat like a German shepherd’s, but heavier. I could feel the fur on its chest very distinctly as it tried to push its way into the house. I said something like, “Hey, wait,” but it had no intention of stopping. It meant to barge into my house. I didn’t know what its purpose was in doing so, but it made me mad, not least of all because I was concerned that the cats would get out of the house with the door open like that. Then I realized they would not go anywhere near that thing, that they were hiding in the living room already in fear of it, and I shoved it out. It retreated into the dark and left in a sullen manner, cutting across Old Man Sevin’s back yard, heading southwest. I was surprised how relatively easy it was to get rid of it. I woke up immediately, jolted to find myself in my bed instead of by the back door. The cats were not in the living room with me, which is unusual. I didn’t get up to see where they were or check the kitchen door, because I could tell by the temperature and the stillness of the air that it was shut, and if the cats were scared, they would be okay and filter back in later. It was around four o’clock. I went back to sleep, satisfied that I had fairly easily kept that thing out.
It was similar to my previous werewolf dream in that it was a powerful canine creature, but it was dissimilar in a number of ways. It was more of a weredog than a werewolf. Sounds kind of funny, but there ya go. It didn’t have the huge shoulders of the werewolf; its shoulders were narrow, like a real dog’s. The werewolf in my previous dream was grey and shaggy. This guy was mostly brown with black areas and its fur was flat and coarse. The grey werewolf was wearing clothing. This guy wasn’t. It didn’t resemble any local dogs I know in real life. In the dream, I knew it wasn’t a real dog, although I felt it often took the shape it was in. It had great solidity and weight, but it was nowhere near as big as the grey werewolf. I could feel the heat of its body when I pushed against it. It didn’t growl or roar like the grey werewolf. It was silent and didn’t even really look at me, but it meant me ill in some way. Its facial expression was stern and disapproving. I wasn’t terrified of it. I felt caution and then anger that it was there and that it was trying to get into my house. I’m not sure if this dream is in any way linked to the werewolf dream. It was striking because of its very vivid sensations and because it took place in the “real” world rather than in the dream world I usually envision.