Last night, I dreamt.
At the start of my dream, I had crawled out of a cave below the edge of a cliff where I had hid, and now after a series of misadventures I stood on the top of the cliff.
I was standing at the edge of a gigantic corridor, much larger than for a human being. The walls, ceiling, and floor were of stone. At the end, to the left, was the opening to a huge lair. I sent a panel of stone, as tall as the corridor, sliding along the left wall to seal off the lair.
A fellow to my right grabbed and shook me with joy at what I was accomplishing. I had to caution him, because the panel was sliding so slowly.
Pale extremities of a huge nature began to emerge from the lair. Their odd shape gave evidence that the being who was emerging, whom I had tried to seal off, was not entirely human in form.
A gigantic cry sounded: “Fee, Fi, Fo, Fum.”
I turned and ran. Suddenly on all fours and in pain, I heard the rest. “I smell the blood of an Englishman.”
I had been half-awake, now I fully woke. I had rolled out of my bed and landed on a couple stacks of books.
This was not the first time a dream ended that way. See my Norweson/Nightmare entry.