Subject: White, Male, 28
The subject is crouched at one corner of a sunny, armpit-deep swamp with one other man he does not know, approximately his own age. The swamp is teeming with what the other man calls "laser leg frogs," varying in size. The smallest are the size of a spearhead; the largest are grotesquely massive. The frogs have fringes of flesh growing off their hind legs which look like strips of overcooked fettucine. They are highly poisonous to the touch.
Also in the swamp are two older white women in robes. One has noteably long fingernails. These, it seems, are witches, and they wade around with impunity.
The subject and his companion seem to have been making a documentary, or conducting some sort of study, but now they are merely trying to remove themselves from their current location, where they are cornered, without touching any of the many frogs. Frogs are sunning and jumping and swimming all around them. They swim slowly, and as they do, their leg-noodles bunch up and straighten out, bunch up and straighten out, like the "legs" of a jellyfish.
The subject's companion suggests they dive for safety. Even in the dream, the subject cannot see the logic of this. The companion is a Fred Friction / Mark Borchardt type.
Now the subject can see the swamp is adjacent to a town of some kind, as a convertible car careens into the water. Its passengers are a four-unit nuclear family. The car fills with water, and the father slumps over at the wheel.
"Looks like a suicide," one of the witches says.
"Suicide?" the subject asks.
"Look in the car; a two-foot frog's doing all the driving," the other witch says.
The subject can only see the dead man and his panicking family, now up to their waists in water.
The subject awakens.