I am in an apartment or loft — possibly my home, in New York. I hear the freight elevator arriving — funny, I wasn’t expecting anyone. It is an old-style NY freight elevator, the kind you have to operate manually, with a scissors gate that has to be opened before the regular door.
(Here’s a picture of one from my friends at Transportation Alternatives.)
Anyway, the elevator in the dream arrives and inside is a gaggle of “bank robbers” (dressed in dark suits, I think) who are holding civilians in front of themselves as human shields.
I grab an old pistol (a Colt-type revolver) out of a nearby desk drawer (I don’t own a gun) and begin to do what I have to do… unfortunately that means that some of the hostages get shot as well. I shoot one of the civilians, and as that person drops, the bad guys are revealed and exposed, and, as the elevator is manually operated, they’re too busy defending themselves to leave my floor. I eventually kill everyone, though I have regrets about those poor human shields who also had to die.
I am packing up the folding bikes and someone is watching me, commenting, “No, not like that… that’ll never work… those folding pedals are useless…”