I'd presumably made a night-landing at the King Ranch (probably via The Songbird). The ranch seemed deserted. I was walking along the porch of the main bunkhouse when a hand-holding-a-bottle smashed-through a window, then dropped the bottle shatteringly onto the porch.
-Unspeakably stark and terrifying. But signifying nothing except that my genetic-makeup only allows me to remember around .05% of dreams.