Weird-Ass Dream

I need an interpreter for this one . . .

Last night, I had the strangest dream. I'm in an airport in Colorado. I'm chasing a woman who may or may not be my wife. I chase her outside onto the runways and she escapes by jumping a fence. I turn around and see two young women (a blonde and a brunette) standing behind me.
"She got away?" they ask.
"Yeah."
"Well, we wouldn't let you get away."
(A good start for a dream.) They tell me there's a party I'm invited to and they'll give me directions.
(Jump cut)
I'm running through a strange park with cobblestone pathways and concrete walls topped with wrought iron fencing. A quivering male voice is half-singing/half-chanting the directions to me: "Two steps left, then run to the right, don't slow down or you'll run all night."
I arrive at what can only be described as a mini-Victorian mansion in severe disrepair. My two new girlfriends are waiting inside the door. We are greeted by a woman whose legs are severed at the knee, and she clomps around on all fours like an ape. She is naked, and has huge breasts that each swing to their own rhythm. She serves us drinks.
Deeper in the house is a strange group. There are three men on the couch. Two look normal. The third, sitting in the middle, has a pale, triangular face and a pair of rat-like fangs protrude from his lips. They nod hello and seem friendly enough.
Next to them sits a man playing the guitar with his feet. He's playing "Kathy's Song" by Simon and Garfunkel, only he plays the song as if he's writing it himself.
"I gaze beyond the rain-drenched streets." He plays that line, nods, and writes it down.
"To England where my heart lies." Sings it, nods, writes it down.
"Ain't that a Simon and Garfunkel song?" I ask like a fuckin' hillbilly tourist in New York.
A hush settles over the group. The guitarist shakes his head no, and goes back to his work.
Out of the blue, Rat-like Fangs Man asks me, "So what do you think of the Resurrector?"
Everyone looks at me. "You mean Jesus?"
The normal one next to Rat-like Fangs says, "Boy, was that the wrong answer."
A guttural screaming sounds from a nearby room. It scares the shit out of me. The brunette runs in. I decide to get the hell out of there. The blonde directs me to a laundry chute. I climb in and she follows. As I climb in, I see an immense man in a blue security guard uniform stalking into the room. He's carrying a knife.
"Go! Go!" the blonde screams. We hightail it up the laundry chute, and through it's cracks I can see Big Blue Man holding his knife, looking for the right place to plunge it in.
Just as he is ready to stick me, my perspective changes, and it's my hand plunging the knife. I've just stuck the blonde, and not in the good way.
(jump cut)
I'm standing outside the house, and I'm in the middle of some sort of cult meeting. Everyone but me is naked and hitting each other with switches. The brunette (did I say she was naked?) comes to me and hands me a book. The title of the book is "Three for Rocks"(no idea where that came from) and the author's name is Troey (again, no clue). The book is wrapped completely in clear packing tape, and the sawed-off spine of an Ann Rice book is taped to it.
(Now I'm awake.)

Any takers??