If you are going to insist on waking me up thirty minutes before my alarm goes off, on a day when I'm already getting up at oh-ergh-thirty, because you've felt compelled to produce a creepy serial killer basement hideout dream...
... that is NOT a hint to spend the next ten minutes awake revising and expanding said dream to make it even creepier.
Argh. Argh. Argh.
Fortunately, there was a kitten close at hand who felt that any signs of life on my part = time to snuggle the cat.
Also fortunately, I have a back-up alarm clock for when attempts to snag another ten minutes make the first one go slightly wonky.