I remember a few elements from my dream this morning, which, I think, took place at a school.
I was with some girls at the edge of an enormous indoor pool in which marine mammals swam. One or two of the girls, my friends, jumped into the water, which was strictly forbidden. Guiltily, I ran away, not wanting to be associated with such behavior and not wanting to be caught (in the sense that I didn't stop or report them). I worried about this, and about the mammals catching diseases. I worried less about the girls being hurt.
I went into breakfast. The boy or man at the end of my bench started to shake voluminous amounts of salt onto the head of the girl next to me and then mine, so much so that I had inches of salt on my head. Yet I did nothing because I didn't know what to do. It was something I couldn't or shouldn't stop because it seemed to have some meaning.
Outdoors, a series of tiny but menacing airplanes came toward us. I didn't know what to do as I didn't understand their intention. Vaguely afraid, I caught a few of them in my hands and turned them around. More planes came, and I did the same. I am not sure what happened to the ones I didn't catch, although I think they continued on Then, thinking that that battle was over, I looked up and saw enormous tanks coming straight for me, rather than for the group. I could do nothing about them as they weren't robotic miniatures but the real thing. I mentally prepared to die.
Instead, I was kidnapped. The kidnapper was a man who seemed smooth, charming, and ambiguous—I could not tell whether he was evil or not. He talked to me a great deal. I didn't know his intentions.