Books Are the Best Weapons

I dreamed that my mother, sister and I were in the jungles of South America, with my dad in our new house, a mansion with curving, Moorish arches of stone.  My sister, mother and I were getting into a limo to board a train -- I don't know where we were going.

Fast forward five or more years -- we had been unable to get home or contact my father for many years because of unrest in the country.  We finally were allowed to board a train with one other passenger -- a South American who looked remarkably like Tom Hiddleston.  He struck up a conversation and I knew mother began to think of him marrying one of us, probably my younger sister (We were both young ladies of a marrying age, unattached at the moment).

We arrived at our stop and he stayed with us. We walked along a path through the jungle to our mansion.  When I saw it, my heart stopped.  The arches were gone, replaced with slender stone columns, making the house look old and uninviting.

We entered and found, to our shock, that Father was planning on remarrying.  We had been gone an awfully long time and he'd thought we were dead, but I was still horrified.  He was marrying a younger (late 20's) woman with bright hair and lots of makeup.  I knew she was something other than she appeared and waited on the stairs while mother and father yelled at each other.

The man was still with us, and he and I somehow discovered that the fiancée was an evil witch.  I grabbed a huge fantasy novel and when she came down the stairs, I attacked her, smacking the side of her head over and over and over again until she fainted.

Then I woke up while we were still deciding on what to do next.