White Dogs and Old Books (night of 26/09/2013)

I am a funeral for a baby. It is unclear whose baby it is. There are member of my family there, including my cousin. I feel that I am there in some professional capacity. The father, a bearded man with short hair, is obviously heartbroken. He crouches at the foot of the tiny coffin, Sobbing becomes shrieks becomes howls. He vomits out a mess of white foam, and then he turns into a small white dog who runs away. This has happened because his grief is too much. I try to reassure my cousin that she is okay to feel disturbed ;after all, you have seen someone turn into a dog!'. I am disturbed too - finally, evidence of the paranormal! I am in another part of the building where the coffin is. I suddenly think how disturbed I would be if the white dog turned up now. Dark hallway, dark corridor. I do not want the dog to turn up again.
.
A long canal boat. I am walking through this canal boat. There are lots of boxes filled with books. 'Swamp Thing volume 2' among them. I am at first pleased by this, but then I think I actually already have copies of these. Do I need to take them back with me? Perhaps I can give them to Andy? I then become concerned about whether or not you need to lock boats. The boat is long. I am suddenly afraid that people may get in from the back of the boat. The canal boat is lit by dull bulbs.
Outside. There are boxes by some kind of shed / dock type building. In these boxes are more books. I see fantasy type books. Would I enjoy reading them? I cannot remember what I started.
A tangled path running behind a low, factory type building - certainly some kind of industrial conurbation. The path is narrow, and bordered by the wall of the factory on one side, and on the a wire fence. There may be other objects - books - here from my past, lost and tangled and beginning to moulder amongst the weeds, the thorny decay.