Had another Robert E. Howard style dream this morning, one day before the anniversary of his birth. I was staying in a rustic motel in the mountains and somehow two spiders about the size of German Shepherds got into my room. All I had to fight them with was a hatchet, which meant I had to get a lot closer to them than I really wanted to. I'm not afraid of spiders but when they're that big, they're pretty damn creepy. And they were extremely aggressive, doing their best to get to me while I was hacking at one with the hatchet and holding the other off using a chair as an improvised shield. They made particularly horrible hissing screeches as they died and left great quantities of blackish blood everywhere. (I hope I complained to the management of the motel.)
Trish says I bring this sort of thing on myself with the stuff I read. There's probably some truth in that, though I was having vivid nightmares well before I could read. However, a lifetime's reading of science fiction, fantasy, horror, and mystery has doubtlessly added to the pool from which my subconscious drinks.
Anyway, I woke up about 2:00 to find a gibbous moon shining through the blinds so brightly that it seemed to throw small pools of silver foxfire on the bed and floor. Took me a while to get back to sleep.