I was working in a dream therapy clinic.  There were maybe ten in-patients, and one therapist.  They had both group and individual therapy to help with their problems.  I came to intern there in the middle of a potluck they were having.  Several people had brought lasagna and I asked if any of them were vegetarian.  I was embarrassed because I said lasagna wrong somehow.  At least one was, though I realized after getting my plate that the lasagna had already been put away, so I didn't get any anyway.  There was a group meeting and people talked about their dreams.  One girl was afraid because she'd had a dream about one of the group members dying.  The therapist told her not to worry.  That night I dreamt something similar, and I mentioned it to the therapist.  My dream was of the short-haired woman, but I didn't yet know her name.  For some reason I said Samantha.  The therapist told me I was crazy, that he had just had a one-on-one session with Samantha and that she was now resting comfortably.  I didn't believe him, suddenly of the thought that the dreams the group was having about death were premonitions coming true, and that the therapist was behind the murders, like a movie plot.  I demanded to see Samantha to know she was okay.  Finally he showed me.  Samantha was the long, dark-haired woman who looked like Catherine Zeta-Jones.  By this time the rest of the group came to see about the commotion and I kept asking where the short-haired woman was.  Nobody could find her.