Dreamt of being crowned Emperor of a choking, dying world. The old Emperor passed on and there was almost a civil war among all us potential heirs for control of the throne. But then some kind of catastrophe struck-- some terrific volcanic or seismic disturbance, or perhaps an asteroid impact. Tidal waves had killed hundreds of thousands; everywhere you went, the streets were clogged with the bodies of the drowned and burnt. Corpses were being buried everywhere-- in the streets, under houses, in yards, everywhere was a grave. And in the chaos, I pulled together something of a plan, had several rivals eliminated, gained some allies, and performed the ritual of claiming, in which I symbolically bathed my hands in blood to show that I was willing to disembowel the world rather than let another take control of it. And the few remaining claimants yielded, because we could not afford to sink any farther into anarchy.