Diseased Running

Dream: I was jogging, which was a strange thing because it's not something I've ever done. The fields were open and empty, but the path was clear. In the distance I could see some houses that seemed vaguely familiar. On the way, I bumped into another jogger. A slender woman with red hair. She stopped and flirted a little, saying that we should get together as we both liked the same book series.

While tempted, I felt drawn to those houses. I remember one from my past, somewhere I used to live. I was a tenant in one back when I was a student. I entered the house, leaving the girl behind. 

Inside I found P, my old landlord. He was alone, and there was no sign of the dogs he used to have. There was something wrong with him. His face was pasty and flaking, covered in dirt and scabs. He reached up and pulled at a particularly pustulent scab and pulled a long stream of thick goo from his face. Repulsed, I turned and ran...

Behind me, in a strange cut-scene, I could see a cop looking surprisingly like Jeffrey Coombs, checking the room. He wasn't happy. He knew I'd been there. 

I continued running. The red-haired woman was still outside, she ran with me as the cops gave chase. Surely they didn't think I was responsible for the disease? 

"C'mon!" the woman shouted, she'd leapt onto what looked like a milk-float, but it drove faster. I piled on board and we screeched across the grass like a golf-cart on nitrous.

The next thing I remember, I was in a stark white room - there was a test - I had to construct something, some sort of device... then I woke.