In a green lit room, like natural sunlight through army canvas; a concrete porch on the ground forming a corner with the building adjacent to it. Single sheets of printer paper are scattered throughout on the ground like leaves, many overlapping. All are face up with text. The writing on the sheets of paper looks like it came from a dot-matrix printer (like the font expiration dates on milk jugs are usually printed in). The text runs sideways vertically, and each paper only contains one or two phrases in large print. I am fascinated with the writing and start reading the pages around me. I am lucid at this point and surprised that I can actually read what's on the pages (I read somewhere that you can never read written words in dreams). The writing is cryptic but feels meaningful. I start collecting all the pages I'm reading to keep. The writing is oddly motivational, like I'm saving it for a time when I might need it. A crow/grackle lands about two to three feet from where I'm sitting, the way that pigeons do when you're eating outside, eyeing your food. But this crow/grackle is a bit closer than birds normally get, and I try to scare it away by waving my arm at it. The bird doesn't seem afraid at all. This is the complete opposite behavior from how birds usually act, and it's freaking me out. The bird by itself seems harmless, I'm more afraid of how things are no longer predictable/in my control in this lucid state. The bird could completely decide to land on me if it wanted to. The fear is enough to snap me out of the dream. Still half asleep, I conclude that the bird was probably my pet.