I'm visiting Karen, who's at home with her little boy (who is about 2 instead of a baby). Her husband comes in unexpectedly - he is a very unpleasant man, and Karen is very uncomfortable - you could say she even looks scared, and it's apparently because I'm there - she's not supposed to have visitors, it seems, and he is very disapproving. I feel intimidated myself, and figure I'd better go. Outside, I see some of Peter's sculpture - he's an artist - at the entrance to the house. One of them, on the left, is a sort of spire, or extremely large spike. It's metal, dark, pointed at the top, wider at the bottom, and there's something at the bottom that looks like a small dog lying on its back with its head away from me and its feet up, almost as if it were impaled on the spike. Another, smaller dog, a puppy, is standing in front of it (and the not dissimilar piece next to it), barking. This whole thing is up on a ledge or platform almost at eye level. As I look at the first piece, I am more and more disconcerted - it really does look real - it couldn't be, could it? I stare at it, fascinated. Then suddenly it moves, kicks its back legs up as if it was trying to pull free, to get up. It is real! Oh hell. Oh, hell. I don't want to believe this. He's actually impaled a dog on this thing, because he thinks it's art. Oh, hell. It goes through my mind to rescue it, but how in the world could I possibly do anything that would help? I know it must be bleeding to death, why in the world is it still alive anyway? I don't want to look around at the other side, on my right, that's been obscured by the puppy - but I do, and sure enough, yes, there's blood gushing out from its side, hell, there's nothing I can do, I've got to get away from here. [Either I go back in and tell Karen about this, Peter being gone again, and she decides to come with me, or on my way to the car she catches up, with her little boy, knowing she has to get away herself, and protect her child from this man, who's been getting increasingly more dangerous.]