For some reason or another, I was back in high school, but also at BYU-I. Every few years, the school had a ritual of having these teams of 4 take the "stage" and fight for the death. There was always at least one senior, and then the rest were randomly selected. So sometimes, barely 14-year-old kids would be fighting nearly 19-year-old people. Often, the people only knew each other by passing one another in the halls. Familiar faces, but nothing else. Other times, the competitors were best friends. Or even siblings.
It was all viewed from my high school's auditorium, which is very old and pretty dark. I kept trying to hide from teachers and professors who would grab me and take me to the auditorium to wait for my turn. There were some people who were helpful and supportive of me trying to escape, and others who clearly did not approve of my motives.
Many people I knew died, and many survived, but they were forever changed. It was terrible.
I barely swept by unnoticed by those who mattered and would force me to go on.
When it was over, I went on a huge rant in front of a large classroom with tons of students and teachers and community members, asking them why they allow this to happen, and how disgusting it is. I was screaming, completely exhausting myself through the emotion and physical exertion of screaming. I was screaming at them to put an end to it, to be humane. I felt incredibly alone.
The dream was absolutely miserable. I hate that dream.