Early-morning imaging

I had a dream last night. Or maybe it was a nightmare.
It was devoid of emotion, mostly, so it's hard to tell into which of these categories the images fit.

I remember sleeping. Then awakening with the knowledge that something was wrong. Something felt wrong. And all of a sudden, I just knew what it was--someone or something had stolen food from everyone in the surrounding area and had left it at our house-that-wasn't-our-house. Maybe our children had done it? Or our pets?

I knew without knowing that everyone would be coming to get their food back. Right now in the middle of the night. As I walked through the front door to meet all the people, a pair of.....somethings were hanging on the wall. I don't know how to describe what they were... Something kind of like a miniature jacket hanging on a key-hook by the door. As I watched these "jackets", they seemed to fill with forms, very much like ghosts filling the empty clothing of their recently-departed bodies. And they filled with deformed little figures, one of them with a feminine feeling to it grew large and swollen, dwarfing the masculine little being.

and when they finished growing, neither of them moved. They weren't alive. They were simply hanging from the ceiling, empty little husks with the overwhelming feeling of prophecy and foreboding. I looked at you, and you understood too. There was no question, no judgement, just us between the two of us. That kept me sane.

They began coming from everywhere-- every direction-- to get their food from our house. But it was only children and pets. Dogs, and cats, with collars. Kids in oversize t-shirts and bare, blue feet. Some arrived in pairs, some animal trios, some groups of sleepy children, holding the hands of their siblings as they emerged from the fog. All looked groggy as they shambled up to the boxes that appeared, full of food, in our driveway. I wonder how they knew their food was at our house. I wonder how they knew it was missing.

We passed out the canned goods as the innocents grew close enough. Just one can per house. One can of peaches, or lima beans, or chili, or tomatoes. Doesn't matter if they receive what was taken from them, only that they receive something back.

Then, directly after receiving their food, the things shambled off again. Without a word or a smile.

into the night, into the fog, into the never-coming dawn.

And then I awoke, feeling swollen with emptiness.