awareness of dreams during sleep, beasts, murder, playing cards

I dreamed that I was standing in my bedroom, arms crossed, facing my ex-boyfriend Vincent, who was in the same position as me. There was a poster on the wall, which depicted a blue sky with clouds. Vincent asks me: what do you see? I answer him: blue. The wind flips the poster over to its back side, and a Jeopardy card is visible, a spade or club knight, he asks me what do you see, I answer him: blue.
I find myself in a room with several doors. I open the doors one by one; some are empty. In one of them, I find a beast with long black hair, like a yak or a llama, as large as a cow. Its head did not resemble that of any known animal; its muzzle was a mixture of that of a dog, a horse, or a cow. It had no legs; its stumps rested on small walls. I open another room and find an identical beast, but with legs. I realize that I am in a dream, and I notice that I see things as if I had just opened my eyes and was looking at reality. I look at my hands; they are identical to those in reality, except that the lines are more pronounced. I think to myself: I, who believed that dreams were merely information, false semblances of images, like when one thinks and revisits a scene without seeing it completely—no, in fact, it is our brain that recreates a reality.
Then it gets blurrier, I no longer remember all the details. I find myself on a bed, with a rather old duvet, in good condition but whose patterns evoke the 1960s. A long-haired boy kisses me, he looks like Vincent. I don't know what happens after that, I find myself in the street arguing with a girl. I push her onto the roadway and a truck runs her over. I don't even look at her and keep on my way. Arriving at a house, with a staircase in the entrance, I go up it, and there someone in the house tells me that someone pushed that person into the truck and she died. Later, the person I killed emerges from the fireplace and denounces me as her murderer.