Night One

(Note: the patch I'd been using this day fell off, and around 6p.m. I applied another; possibly this, or the fact that it was the first night I slept wearing the patch, is responsible for the intensity and sheer terror of this dream.
Note Also: the following dream contains violent imagery, but if I can dream it, you can handle reading it, sissy.)

I am at my place of employment, which is now an outdoor hamburger stand of sorts. I slowly realize that money is disappearing from the register, and then even more slowly, I realize that actual people are disappearing. Not murdered-in-cold-blood-before-my-eyes disappearing, or vanishing-in-thin-air disappearing, just sort of not-here-anymore-and-there's-no-good-explanation disappearing. I realize that this is an Agatha Christie sort of situation, and decide that since anyone among us could be the thief and potential murderer, I ought to keep the situation to myself and try to solve the mystery before it's too late. I find solace in a single co-worker (who shall hereby be referred to as Dean, to protect the innocent, or something) who I deem to be trustworthy, and explain the situation to him. He agrees to aid me, but before we can really get too far in solving the murders, I notice that one of my teeth is a bit loose. I can't leave well enough alone, so I head to the bathroom to inspect it. As I'm wiggling the tooth, others become loose, and pretty soon I am spitting all of my teeth out, en masse, into the sink. (A side note: I've dreamed this particular situation before, and each time, I think to myself "Shit, I've dreamed about this, but now it is ACTUALLY HAPPENING TO ME!") To remedy this situation (dream-logically), and for comfort and protection, I convince Dean and another male co-worker to lay cuddling with me on the floor. They protest that this situation is, well, a bit compromising and awkward for them, isn't it, and I tell them that any girl would be thrilled to be in my place, and that should be enough for them. Apparently it is, so we all head off to dream-dreamland.

The next morning, I awaken in a huge mansion to my (real-life) boyfriend's mother asking us who would like a soda or perhaps a mango juice. I'm feeling good about this situation, as clearly no one seems to feel their life is in danger, and perhaps everything is okay, and decide that it'll be mango iced tea for me, thanks. Come to find out, my trust in Dean is misplaced, because wouldn't you know before I even get to drink my damn tea he is chasing me around the house with an antique-looking steel syringe, the sort with holes for your fingers on the plunger, and trying to inject me with it. From what I can see, there is some sort of noxious-looking black liquid inside.

I try to run, but my feet feel like lead. I attempt to slam doors in his face, but come to find that every single door is either too big or too small for its frame. I manage to wrench the syringe away from him and inject him with it, but he actually seems to enjoy it. I mean, he laughs coarsely and emits a satisfactory sigh, and puts his hand on mine to push the plunger down faster. Entirely sinister and disturbing and overall fucked up. He chases me into the kitchen when I spot another antique surgical tool, a pair of sternum scissors (curved, sharp blades, steel) that is aesthetically matched to the syringe he wields. I quickly pull out his penis and, looking away, saw through it with the scissors. Once I am satisfied with the amount of blood yielded from his gruesome injury, I run to find help but realize that I am now alone in the giant mansion. I head back towards the kitchen, and in typical horror-movie fashion, I find a pool of blood but no body.

-End Scene-