Cuddle and Revenge
Begin: There was a party going on in the residence I had just entered. After talking to a few people and getting a drink, I sat down on a sofa off in a side room. I was joined by a plumpish, somewhat older woman who was in a mood to cuddle up to me. We soon got a bit intimate with each others bodies, but did not carry this too far, especially when we noticed someone was watching. This someone proved to be the woman's husband. There was no confrontation at this point.
In the next scene I was in a room which appeared to be a laboratory or workshop where I normally worked. It was attached to the back of a building and had a glass door at each end, opening to the outside, and two wide windows on the free side. I went to one of the glass doors to greet three people who had come to negotiate with me over a project I was working on. One was a young, attractive woman and two were men, all were in business suits and carried attache cases.
As I opened the door to let them in, I smelled smoke. Instead of letting them in, I went out and told them I thought someone was burning my car. I looked in the parking lot which was on the side with the windows, but noticed the smoke was coming from a Mercedes, which was not my car. There was a Jaguar roadster nearby which looked as if it had been a bit scorched on the side opposite me, but it was not burning now. I think it was mine.
I turned back to the building and noticed that three unwelcome people had entered the room. I took a pickax from near the door opposite the one I had gone out through and slammed the head end through the door, which, being tempered glass, disintegrated into tiny fragments. I stepped through the frame even as the glass was still falling and confronted the visitors, who looked just a touch taken aback by my entrance. They all three appeared to motorcycle gang members dressed in filthy blue denim and leather with the usual trappings. One was tall and black, one was medium and carried a length of heavy chain, the third was short, carried a small knife, and wore a motorcycle hat with a skull and crossbones on the front (these hats are now all but extinct due to helmet laws).
I asked them what they were doing here, and the black on told me the woman's husband had sent them. I asked where these persons were. The black man told me, "He has gone to Argentina, and his wife, well...... ". The man with the chain now moved quickly toward me and I used the pick to fend him off. He hit me with the chain as we passed, but didn't have a good enough swing to cause much harm. We faced each other and I held the pick extended straight at him. He swung the chain with obvious intent to wrap it around the pick head to get it away from me. I could not move fast enough to prevent this, but the chain failed to catch, having hit the handle.
I moved quickly at him and embedded the point of the pick in his chest twice. I turned just in time to do the same to the short guy with the knife. It seemed they were expecting an easy target and my fast movement and aggressive posture had got their timing off.
Fadeout.
It was my thought during the confrontation that the only way I could end the trouble I was in was to kill these three now, if I could. If I called for help or otherwise caused them to leave, they would just be back again and would soon kill or cripple me.
The sequence where I was hit with the chain interested me, because I could think of no time when I had felt pain in any dream. There was none in this case, although the chain was moving fast enough to have hurt. I am not without sense of touch in dreams, because I can remember tactile portions of other dreams, especially pleasant ones. Although I have been injured and even killed in dreams, there has been no pain.