I occasionally get requests for more dream reports, and last night's were the last ones I've remembered in a while, so here we go. First dream:
In the first dream, I was walking in a parking lot when a woman backed her car into me. I was startled but not really hurt, so we didn't exchange insurance information or anything like that. An hour or so later, a policeman showed up at my door to inform me that I should have reported the event, and that since I was involved in a vehicular accident, there were some safety videos I was required to watch. I explained that I wasn't driving—that I was the one who was hit—but he said it didn't matter; both parties had to watch the videos. There were something like fifteen of them, ranging from 15 minutes to 2 and a half hours apiece, totalling nine hours. Well, I would have none of this.
I asked him, "if I show you my keychain to prove that I don't have a car, will you just forget about this?" He thought about it for a while, and finallly said, "okay, well, fine; I won't make you watch the first one." The first one was 30 minutes; that's still 510 minutes of safety videos to watch. So, I spent basically the rest of the day trying to not have to watch these videos. By the time I gave up it was late into the night—about 3:00 or so. My mom and brother (I was living at home) returned from their trip, and I realized that I would have been done by now had I just watched the safety videos. (Maybe this is a parable.) But, I kept going... I had another plan to get out of watching them, so I headed back to the police station, which was conveniently located next door in this dream. When I arrived there, the officer I had been talking to had to leave because of a disturbance. Which ties me into dream #2...
In dream #2, I was at a friend's house when someone (Tracie Thoms—Mahandra from Wonderfalls, oddly enough) noticed that the host's toe was blue. He said that it had felt numb, so we took him to the hospital. Once at the hospital (a very nice-looking hospital with marble walls, lots of fountains, courtyard gardens...), the perspective changed to that man's eyes, and the doctor told him/me that it was lucky that I got there in time; it would have been inoperable in an hour. So, the doctor started the procedure, when the power cut out. The doctors got word that there was some Middle-Eastern madman in the hospital with his German (sometimes he was French) companion and a host of guards. They hastily finished the procedure, bandaged my toe up, and then escaped down the stairway.
Not knowing where to go and not being able to get there very quickly, I hid in a bathroom located off of the stairway. The "bad people" were there soon enough, and the man in charge barked, "break down the door!" I quickly made grunting sounds and exaggeratedly played with the toilet paper roll, which was convincing enough to the German man, who replied, "no, sheeee isss... not here."
Once I heard them leaving, I ran down the stairway; I was on the top floor, so I knew that they came from below. Unfortunately, I got down to the next floor, and they saw me. They seemed upset that I was avoiding them, and chased after me, cornering me in the stairwell. I was worried for a bit; they started asking me where the manager was. I didn't have any idea; I was just a patient. As they closed in on me, the manager appeared—an older woman with red hair and a commanding but friendly presence. (I've seen her in a movie or a TV show, but I can't recall what.) They turned their attention to her, and she whispered "go!" to me, so I did, at which point the dream shifted to third person.
The conversation between the Middle-Eastern man and the manager went something like this:
Man: Woman have no place in a position of authority. Woman are immoral, and consequently they make immoral decisions.
Woman: How dare you call me immoral, after breaking into my hospital with your guards and tormenting my patients.
Man: I can prove it to you. Let us say that I arrived here as a patient unconscious. Would you treat me?
Woman: If you needed treatment.
Man: But how would you know if I wanted treatment?
Woman: We make the judgment whether or not to treat you based on your condition.
Man: But you have no right to make that judgment! See? I tell you; woman have no place with authority.
With that, they captured her. The dream cut to her tied down to an operating table, with only the German/French doctor in the room. He said, "now, I shine!" and took a large knife (looked like a shaving knife, actually) from the tray. He playfully made several cuts on her foot as she screamed and struggled to move. Then he started carving her foot gruesomely, cutting out chunks of it. And that's when it was time for the dream to end, and my alarm clock went off.