Okay, these are all weird disjoint bits.
I was in a swimming pool where the water was really dark and murky, and the lighting in the room was poor as well which made it look worse, and everybody was trying to get me to swim but I could see things with tentacles [note for ewx -- maybe it is me who has the tentacle obsession!] lurking under the water. I knew there was a sea monster in there, and I didn't want to swim. I could see them dragging things out of the water, too, and I couldn't see what the things were, but they didn't look pleasant. Suddenly a monster came up out of the water, but I knew immediately that it wasn't a real monster; it looked too much like a drawing of a sea-monster. Then it took its head off and underneath it was a little kid who was laughing and saying he was a monster.
[Yeah, okay, that bit is horribly Freudian. I'm always annoyed with myself when my dreams have such obvious symbolism. Big dark pool, blah blah blah, and then the monster that isn't really a monster. Ho hum.]
The next bit makes no sense. I and a bunch of other people (no idea who they were) were in the girls' toilets, and somebody had stolen somebody else's trousers and was making them do all kinds of stupid things to get them back; they had to do some kind of different forfeit for each of the people who'd stolen the trousers, but in one case at least if they got it wrong they'd die. It was like some kind of nightmare initiation thing, and I was caught up in the middle of it and I didn't know why, and I had to fight this girl (she was shorter than me, with Afro hair, and I was sure I knew her from somewhere) and it ended up with me killing her (I have no idea how, just one minute she was alive and the next minute she was dead) and somehow draining all the substance out of her, until all that was left was a bit of plastic-like-stuff with an eye left in it. Only the eye wasn't a human eye, it was like the sort of eye that a soft toy would have. And I had this bit of plastic-like-stuff on the tip of my tongue, and was sticking it out to show the other people that I had killed her, and this was all that was left of her.
[From the obvious to the fucking bizarre. The only thing I can think of that might explain where any of that came from is the sucking-all-the-substance-out bit, which is reminiscent of a bit in His Mouth Will Taste of Wormwood by Poppy Z. Brite, and I re-read that recently.]
Damn, I can't remember the other bits now. There was one bit where I was in some kind of military compound, there were loads of soldiers around and ... I can remember the feeling of the dream, I'd know it anywhere, but I can't remember any of the events or people or anything. I'll see if it comes back to me later.
Ah well, that was boring, wasn't it?
 Got the poem finished eventually this morning but I don't think it's very good. So, no surprise there.