I then had to explain to my Dad why I'd done it; he couldn't quite believe I had. Also, it appears the UK had suddenly instituted capital punishment for animal killers, so I was in deep shit. But the worst thing was the guilt that I could be the type of person who would kill innocent creatures on nothing more than a whim. A page of my life's book I could never unwrite or rip out.
I suspect this derives from an unfortunate combination of viewing choices last night: The River Cottage Treatment, which involved a trip to an abbatoir; Big Brother, which involved a cute dog being bouncy and happy and totally incompetent to complete a doggy assault course; and the video for the Franz Ferdinand song "Michael", in which at one point an Oriental goth boy allows a single tear to drip from his eye in stylish fashion. And of course, I was talking to my Dad on the phone.
It's always good to wake up from dreams like that and realise one is completely innocent.