Some man had written a book, which was condensed in some magazine, about taming wild horses. For some reason I very much wanted to read this and was disappointed when I saw how skimpy the article was. There were many illustrations of him, however, and his preoccupation with weapons, which he took pride in making himself -- spears and lances and armor. I was talking to Marlene Clapper about him and I told her he was really a psychopath. Now it seems he was in our house and acting in a very threatening way, besides just being malicious and breaking things and taking things. I begged someone to get him out of the house or something terrible would happen, and to lock him up. I wasn't heeded, though, and that night he did kill several people. I was down in the kitchen and I gathered all the knives up. He had turned into a woman meanwhile, who came into the kitchen, followed by a policeman or detective. I picked up one of the butcher knives; she picked up a small paring knife. I got her to drop it, and stabbed her in the chest right under the ribs. She kept being threatening, so I pushed the knife in until I could feel the heart throbbing against the point. She quieted down then and with the man and I on either side of her, we started out the door. A man and small boy in a car right outside on the lawn asked her for directions somewhere, and we let her give them. He didn't seem to notice the blood all down her dress. Then we walked toward the car. I was very alert, because I figured she was still capable of trying anything to escape, and knives were the only weapons we had against her. We got to the car, which was a small yellow sports car, and started off toward the police station. On the way, we saw all sorts of interesting old houses and things and the dream sort of faded out indefinitely.