Dream journal entry

I’m with a group of miscreants, and I’m somewhere I shouldn’t be. Someplace secure, and locked. Someplace with hours of operation. We must have broken in.

We (there’s three other people) screw around for a little bit, until one of them pressures me to do something I don’t want to do. Probably to break something. In any case, something much more flagrantly illegal than breaking into somewhere.

I refuse. They pester me. Eventually their taunts turn physical. We start to fight. I defend myself, but one of the miscreants falls and I stomp on the back of his head. There’s no question — he’s dead immediately.

One of the other miscreants (there are three total) produces a gun and vows to kill me in return. I flee. I’m able to find some food and water and barricade myself in a side room behind a heavy door that I can lock. I wait there, terrified. The gun-toting miscreant attempts to find me.

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