There was something with driving to try and get back somewhere, and something with cakes and household supplies, but then there was some swapping back and forth between my apartment and my parents' place.
FatherSir was testing this worldgating thing he was doing between the Alaska house and my Phoenix apartment, and after the test, he just showed up. I saw him walking, somewhat insubstantially, out in the place between the buildings, and then when I went into my room to look, there he was -- he'd walked through the worldgate on the wall that I'd made, the blank section of wall that I'd cleared off just to the south of the window. He said that he was a refugee, escaping the stuff in Alaska.
We were back in Alaska, at the sunflower/golf course intersection. (Fairbanks denizens will know what I mean.) There was this chicken, not quite dead, but not quite there either. My first thought was that it had been stripped. (Deep Secret readers, you know what I mean.) It was someone's pet. In the chaos of refugees pouring out of the golf course/sunflower intersection, FatherSir explained that Dumbledore had had him testing gating, and the gate that Dumbledore had had him make up was a dangerous-looking one (and there was a mental image akin to the anomaly from Star Trek VII crossed with a dangerous orange-and-black chemical fire smokebillow) and it had all of this and that upon the surface, and he was supposed to stabilize it -- and he almost did, but the one thing that he couldn't stabilize was this chicken's soul, going through it, but he did it because he trusted Dumbledore to know what he was talking about, that it would be OK -- and it wasn't. That chicken wasn't just some chicken, it was someone's pet.
I fiercely declared that I did NOT trust Dumbledore, and never would again, and I didn't care who knew it, and probably some other things happened, but the dream ended.