Life is a Police Raid, Old Chum

Had a rather pleasant dream lately, like the first chapters of a New Weird novel: I was in a futuristic Berlin club that also was my apartment. Lots of strange people, some looked like they came straight out of a Hieronymus Bosch tableau, and some others with heavily painted Weimar faces seemed to be extras in an expressionist movie. Then some cops came and looked like giant metal beetles. In order to deal with the situation, I smashed an electronic toy dog. Later, only the red cushion on my living room floor remained, and some black, spidery stirrings in the air. Was the animal finally dead? I didn't find out, but I'm still hoping.