I just had an unusual dream. I’ve lived in this house for four years, but this was the first dream set in this house. That means it’s time to move. This dream also had an unusual, nearly logical story arc.

The dream started in the living room. I heard the sound of a fire siren and a child outside screaming, “The house is on fire!” I looked through the window at the house across the street. I saw a police car and a fire truck. About 16 children were running out of the house, which didn’t appear to be on fire.

I heard a knock at the door. It was some guy I’d never seen before, but two of my friends in the kitchen knew who he was. They sat around and talked.

I went outside and the police told me the guy who knocked on my door tried to shoot somebody in the house across the street. The SWAT unit was in position, but it consisted of the present-day ladies from the band Heart. Their main weapon seemed to be the dramatic use of walkie-talkies. I saw some sniper rifles sitting around, but they were unmanned. Ann and Nancy were running around screaming into their radios.

I offered to help them through a bizarre series of car trips out of the neighborhood. I’d go in the house to get something, come up with some reason to leave, get in the car and leave, come back to the house to get something else — but the suspect never got suspicious.

Eventually, it was go-time. I was trying to tell Heart that the guy was in a position where they could bust in and get him safely. They didn’t understand and threw me a walkie-talkie. When I told them, mass chaos broke out among them and the hundreds of onlookers who had gathered. They all ran around as I stood in the cul-de-sac. That’s when I saw the suspect emerge and walk through the crowd.

I screamed, “There he is!” Two real police officers handcuffed him. That’s when the victim of the threatened attack came out and said it was all a misunderstanding and offered everyone a beer.

“No,” I said. “You’re crazy and I’m moving.”