I dreamt that I was in some kind of drugstore with a lunch counter, and I was in a long line to get my lunch. I was frustrated with how long it was taking, and the guy ahead of me in line was fratty and being a douche. He had a fancy athletic bag, and made some comment about the ugly backpack I was carrying, and when I rolled my eyes at him, he turned to his bro and talked about how fat I was. I ignored it and tried to focus on getting my lunch.

When I asked a question to the guy behind the counter about my order, the guy walked like two feet away from the counter and started talking to his coworker about me, calling me an asshole. I could ignore the guy in front of me, but this man was supposed to be serving me, and I wasn’t going to put up with it. I demanded to see his supervisor.

I saw his supervisor, who wasn’t helping, and then I demanded to see her supervisor above her (having much difficulty getting the workers to bring their managers). While they were making friendly jokes, they never really apologized or offered to do anything to make up for it. I was getting increasingly fed up; and that’s when I noticed someone in a hoodie and a weird face mask running toward the building.

I heard that person scream some kind of signal phrase, and at that moment about a dozen people in the building pulled out guns, some warning shots were fired, and they bellowed that this was a holdup. One of the people with guns was the guy who was in front of me in line, who had pulled out an assault rifle. I had slumped to the ground in fear, and he knelt beside me grinning evilly, and pointed the gun at me with the end of the barrel just inches from my face.

I had two thoughts: one, that the staff of the store might have had some inkling that this kind of attack was going to happen, and was trying to be rude to me to get me to leave quickly and without suspicion. In other words, they were trying to protect me, and I had been so huffy about the details that I couldn’t be saved. Two, that I had been so hung up on “standing up for myself” in a situation that SO didn’t matter, that I was never going to see my family again.

The last thing I remember was weakly pleading with the guy with the gun, saying, “Please don’t point that at me. You know I’m not going to run and I’m not going to fight. Shoot me if you’re going to shoot me, get it over with, but please stop pointing the gun at me. Please.”

I woke up bawling. I’ve had nearly 26 years of horrifying dreams, but I’m pretty sure that this was the first time anyone had pointed a gun at me so threateningly in one of them. It was so real, I woke up feeling like I’d been through an actual trauma.