I called 911, as one does in case of rabid goat attack, and they sent out a rookie in a tank, who proceeded to blow gigantic holes in the roof. (He may have gotten the goat as well, as it faded out of the dream at that point.) Much of the rest of the dream was spent with me stomping around trying to get someone to pay for the roof, and being quite furious--I mean, it was a rabid goat! Even if you needed a tank, you didn't need to shoot the ROOF!--and then it dissolved into the usual nonsensical sludge of dream imagery. Ganesh got involved, and an old art gallery full of chalk-drawings by Mayan pirates, and eventually I woke up, still rather pissed about the goat.
There is no possible moral or interpretation to be gathered here, except perhaps that a hot bath and a gimlet before bed do something to my brain chemistry.