Can't Breathe

I was in an auditorium, or something like it, at a college maybe. An old girldfriend walks by and I get her to come sit with me. I'm drinking a beer and don't want her to smell it on my breath. She and I talk for a while, then I look at her and say "you're very beautiful", to which she protests, saying we can't get back together. I tell her I don't want to get back together, we don't have enough in common, but that she's still beautiful. Some other people I know are sitting around, and a play is about to begin.

As the play starts, I'm sitting next to my father, and I'm having trouble breathing (this is a real life problem I have sometimes, had it since childhood, and in fact was suffering from it all night but didn't have an inhaler). I felt very weak and told my father. He didn't seem too concerned. I asked him why not and he replied that he had never really believed I ever had anything wrong with me, thought it was all in my head. At this point I started ripping off my shirt and t-shirt, I felt they were too constraining and I couldn't get a breath. I eventually collapsed and was so weak I couldn't move. They stopped the play and closed the auditorium, but instead of carrying me out, they carried me to the back where all the actors and stagehands were milling around.

Now they weren't too happy with me, and since I was laying there like I was dead they started rummaging through my pockets and stealing money from my wallet. I finally spoke up and told them to put that back, which they did grudgingly. Then they all started abusing me, calling me names and poking at me and stuff. I got my cell phone out and tried to call for help. For some reason I called *69 but hung up when I realized it was wrong. I then called 911 and started to tell them my plight, but just then the ambulance and police arrived so I hung up. Unfortunately the cop didn't seem to care much about me, and joined in with the others. As I lay there struggling to breathe and struggling to move one guy was sticking a stick at my butt and I told the cop to tell him to stop, the cop said "it's not a stick, it's a matchbox" so I said "well make him stop poking me with ANYthing." And I complained because the cop was supposed to be protecting me. Then I called my father on the cell phone and told him the problem but there was silence on the other end. I said "are you there" and he said "Yeah I'm here" in an irritated manner, but it was obvious he didn't care and didn't want to be bothered and wasn't going to do anything, so I hung up.

Now Katelyn started crying and we heard her in the monitor and that woke us up. I was so tired and really did have trouble breathing that my wife got up with her. Then I immediately started dreaming again. I dreamed my sister-in-law carried Katelyn and put her in my bed, and my shirt was off, and instead of paying attention to Katelyn I became engrossed in a wild chest hair that was encrusted with some sort of paper stuff, and so I began to pick it clean, then I realized Katelyn had scampered off and went back to her own room.

This morning my wife assured me no one brought Katelyn into our room.