Morning mare: began with me meeting the small family I was house sitting for in Australia. There was a mother in her late forties with dirty blonde hair, her husband, and teenage son. After they had gone I saw the front door was open. I went out on the veranda to look down upon the scenery which looked green and marshy. When I came back there was a wooden man with a big head who I had pushed out the door. I was watching him, sitting out in front of the house in his white car. It was quite nerve racking, and when he returned he had a gun. We squabbled and somehow he shot himself in the stomach backed out the door, split in half, and became the same wooden man again, only this time he was less than a foot tall and not so threatening.
