I dreamt that I was in a fight of some kind. It was a kill-or-be-killed situation. I do not remember my enemies, but there were two or three of them. The fight took place in a large house of neoclassical design that reminded me of American horror movies. I remember a dark lobby several floors high, where I was on the ground floor with one of my enemies, while another was looking down menacingly from the balcony on the top floor. At some point I screamed half in fury and half in fear, and the scream woke me up. It woke up my beloved, as well. This was not the first time, either. My screams wake both of us up in the middle of the night once or twice a year. When we got up this morning, she demonstrated how I sounded. According to her, my high-pitched screams are always the same. My beloved let it rip, too. To me, the sound she produced is that of an old and fat alto singer who has long retired from the opera.