I'd wandered out from Squirrel Hill into the semi-wilderness south of the Parkway. Enjoyed the flowers on the walk at first--I remember trumpet vine, and roses, and tulips. I climbed on this lovely old railroad bridge that had been made into a pedestrian walkway before going further.
A friend (I won't say who, because it wasn't really her) found me there in the forest. She wanted to give me something as a token of her love: she had made a copy of a web page out of clay (and glazed it, all one off-white color). This was kind of creepy because I had previously dreamed of this web page (I think it was a web page about my D&D campaign), but I'd never created or published that web page. Unfortunately, the only detail about the form itself was that she had used a lot of ingenuity to make the sliders out of clay, and it was significant that the 'earth' slider among the elemental sliders was actually decorated with symbols of earth and air.
I had been filling in one of the text fields on the clay web page, and wanted to revert it back to its pristine state. But while I was poking at it trying to find the revert button, I accidentally hit the recessed Cthulhu button, and the clay tablet started to exude amorphous tentacles.
I knew that there was a reset button somewhere, but my frantic jabbing the thing seemed to only make matters worse. And as my friend came up to see what was wrong, the clay thing fell off the table from my jabbings, and reached out and started to engulf her...