I dreamed I had a housemate, and he was a serial killer.
And he made clear, very matter-of-factly, that he was going to kill me sometime soonish.
This didn't terrify me as much as one might expect, but I was kinda scared and stressed.
He seemed, of course, like a perfectly ordinary guy. Was reasonably friendly, had a couple of cats, interacted in a friendly way with my friends. Hugged me now and then, which was really creepy.
I spent a fair bit of time and energy trying to figure out how to avoid getting killed, with limited success. Various obvious things, like contacting the police, never even occurred to me.
At various points during the dream, I was aware that it was a dream, but I "knew" that it was a recurring dream, and that in itself was a problem; I didn't want to keep dreaming about this.
Eventually, I woke up. The room was dark, so it must've been still pretty early. As I fumbled around for one of my various clocklike devices to see what time it was, I heard a rustling noise.
I looked up, and there was my housemate's cat. The door to my room was open.
And then I woke up for real. Apparently my subconscious likes horror movie genre conventions even though I don't watch horror movies.
This dream wasn't the awful nightmarish kind of thing it could've been. But not pleasant. But it did have some nice moments--like a writer friend coming over and doing an amazing painting project on paper spread out on my living room floor, whirling around while holding a paintbrush, resulting in circles and spirals of paint spatters, only apparently it was all rigorously controlled, 'cause they could dip down and make very precise dabs in specific spots as they spun in place.
Anyway. Despite being convinced during the dream that it was a recurring dream, and although it was quite long and involved, I'm now pretty sure it was a one-time thing. I'm hoping it stays that way.