I was in a big old house, reminiscent of Uncle Jack's former house in my hometown--except much larger.  I was talking to Richard Nixon about something, on the living room side of the dining room table.  Then I saw a mouse run across the floor, and then another in a different direction-a big black one.  They were almost as big as rats, but I considered them mice.  I asked someone if there was a gun in the house so that I could shoot them.  Whoever I asked didn't like the idea much and didn't give me an answer.  I realized it was a rather drastic idea, but it seemed I had heard of people doing that, and I thought it was the only way to get rid of them.