I was in an olde worlde version of Lancaster, and had dropped into a cafe a couple of times. Suddenly I found myself sitting on a rafter, looked down and saw I was hanging over the cafe space. It was being run by Liz and she was still getting the décor sorted, removing panels with 50s-ish designs. I told her I had worked in cafes before and took over the till/serving area while she disposed of one. Soon I found myself out on the street walking a black and white kitten on a lead, with dog owners approaching. With the first two, we held our respective 'pets' back so that they could sniff and snuffle each other, but with the third, I suddenly found myself with the teeth of the dog's open jaws touching my temple and cheek, its hot breath on my face and a growl emanating from its throat. A swift scene-change later and I met a man with an elaborate ice hockey-style mask on his face. He removed it to show my his horrendous scars from having his face bitten off by a dog and stitched back on. I reckon you got off lightly with yours.