This was a genuine night terror (although somewhat less intense than others I’ve had). I woke up petrified and struggling to speak, and tried for some time to explain to Ingrid that I was frightened because of the bees and the comic book.
I dreamed that Ingrid and I were going away for a while, and had left careful instructions for a housesitter. I woke up in an incoherent, terrified panic because we had neglected to tell the housesitter about the bees. There was an enormous beehive under the building, and we had meant to warn the housesitter not to disturb it, but had forgotten. It was all mixed up with comics somehow: we’d written our housesitting instructions in comic-book form, and I had a vivid image of the comic I’d intended to write about the bees but had forgotten about.