Creepy dream

I had a bad dream last night.  I was in my childhood home--whenever I'm "at home" in a dream, it's always the house I grew up in--when an alien ship appeared and hovered overhead.  It was a huge saucer like the kind from the movie Independence Day.  It started out off in the distance, not directly over my home.  But it was close enough.

That's when I started noticing little action-figure toy thingies appearing on the floor from out of nowhere.  I knew they were either the aliens themselves or were inanimate objects being manipulated by the aliens for reasons unknown, so I declared war on them.  I grabbed a pistol and tried to fire, but nothing happened.  Light primer strike.  I dropped the pistol and grabbed an AK.  When I inserted the magazine, I put it in backwards, so I had to stop and reverse it.  All this time, of course, the little toy things are creeping closer.  It was just like a horror movie where the victim's panic makes the victim clumsy.

I finally got the rifle properly loaded and charged and the red dot-and-circle sight turned on, so I began popping the little devils.  Strangely, the report wasn't that loud, nor was I wearing hearing protection.  That was the rare good part of an otherwise bad dream--no ringing or deafness.

I cleared the house of action figures, but I must have attracted the aliens' attention, because the ship began to move in my direction.  It stopped and hovered directly over my house.  Then a voice blared out, as if from a loudspeaker, basically scolding the town for its disobedience.  It actually sounded kind of pathetic, as if the aliens had their feelings hurt and were whining about not being embraced as enthusiastically as they would have liked.

Then the ship fell on my house.

The roof caved in a few feet, but that was all; the ship hadn't descended as far as it could have.  It was like it was toying with me or threatening me or something.  It was at this time that the rest of my family appeared.  Mom and Dad were in the kitchen with me.  At least, I think it was the kitchen.  At this point, the dream took a turn, and the interior no longer resembled my childhood home.  Anyway, whatever room we were in, I told my parents to join me by the wall where it was safer instead of under the saggiest part of the roof where it might collapse on them at any moment.  Neither were quick to move.  Mom started talking about something or other--I don't remember what--and Dad asked me to change the channel on the television since the remote control was right next to me.  I had to yell at them to get them moving, which they finally did.

At this point, they disappeared, and my sister appeared.  It was my responsibility to get her out safely.  The house as now sort of like a maze, and I had to weave through a tight spot and leap over a wheelbarrow(!) to get us both out.  My sister lost her balance and fell over the wheelbarrow, and she blamed me for not making the area totally safe for her to walk. 

(Yeah, there was a pattern in this dream of family members being idiots.  I promise they're not like this in real life.)

At this point, I woke up.

So what was the point of this dream?  What real-life experiences did my subconscious use to create this particular piece of performance art?  I have no idea.

But I woke up in a slight panic, and I hate doing that.  I'd rather have nice happy dreams and wake up with a smile.  But the subconscious does what it wants.