Some background. I am a 66 year old male living in a small town in Minnesota. From 1976 through 1986 I served as a deputy sheriff/jailer and as a state correctional officer. I last practiced the judo throw mentioned in the narrative in 1985 but never used it in combat. Gina is my wife of eight years. Charlie is a dog she got in 2000 and with whom I've become "best friends" after some initial reluctance on his part. We would never sell him.

We have agreed to sell Charlie to some kid but, knowing he's coming over, I've changed my mind and am telling Gina, almost yelling, that we're not going through with it. If need be I'll pay the kid $20 not to take Charlie, four times what the kid was going to pay.

Now we're in a house unlike any we've lived in and two young men come in. I order them to leave but Gina says she's invited them. That, then, is that; even in dreams I know when I've lost an argument before it starts. They go downstairs and soon I see they are naked. (I don't get any sexual vibes here, and assume that, like me, their taste in pajamas is "Classic Greek."

Scene Shift​

I'm stepping out of the door into the night, from a different house. A sound and an almost-shadow alert me there's someone behind me, intending to attack. I pivot, land a right to the jaw and down he goes. Big black dude. I command him several times, "Stay down!" and am also yelling for 911 and the cops, knowing full well it's probably not going to do any good. He stays down, though; and I'm starting to relax when I see an arm about to come around my throat. Grab the wrist and pull, shoulder under his armpit, grab the shirt ... over he goes!

Now I've got two big, mean dudes to tell to Stay Down. No gun, no cuffs, no pepper spray and, for that matter, no badge. Not to mention, no help. They're not going to lie on that grass all night; ands it stands to be Bad News For Bob when they get up.

Which they do; but only to walk across the lawn and street to three or four people, at least one woman among them, gathered 'round a car.

Nothing else to do but walk home. As I turn a corner, several men meet me. The one in front is a white-haired man wearing an old-style army fatigue shirt, not tucked in, as a sort-of light jacket. I recognize him as a detective I knew named White, whose hair was indeed that color. He tells me, "We've got 'em in custody. What do you want done with them?"

They're not going to be in custody long enough to suit me; and who's to say I'll be as lucky next time 'round. But White wants an answer, so I tell him, "Put 'em in Three Southwest", one of the tanks at the jail where I worked.

Awake, and feeling very much like I've been in a real fight. Most of my dreams go unrecalled these days; but I'm pretty sure it's been decades since a mixup like this; and I can't think of anything in recent waking life to tie it to.

Comments, questions, observations ... all welcome1

Well, it does seem like some type of (internal) conflict.

Could Gina be acting as your voice of reason in the dream, telling you that you have to accept things that you initially don't want to accept?

In the waking world, I think she'd accept and even support my decision. The two of them go back longer than the three of us. I see something more on the order of a "domesticated animal nature" and "man's best friend."
In one of the first dreams I logged back in 1986, I'm walking through a city park when I'm confronted by a barking, crouching, german shepherd. I drop into a defensive crouch. Just then, a Billy Carter lookalike drives a pickup onto the grass and heads straight toward us. About all we can do is bark, dodge and gesture but, with a smile on his face, the driver turns away and leaves. Picking up on your recent Perls post, here's what I saw then and see now.

Me: This park is for people. There's even a "No Dogs Allowed" sign; and dogs are supposed to be on leashes anyway. I'm not backing down just because that dog thinks it's his territory

Dog: This park is for dogs. A million smells to check out! Room to run! Rabbits to chase and all sorts of tasty tidbits to snack on! He's got no business here and I'm not going to stand for it!

Driver: Uh-oh, those two need to learn they stand on common ground. Maybe if I put a good scare into them, they'll get the message they have other things to fight than each other.

Man&Dog: (Summarized) This is our park now. We've faced and turned back a common threat together. We have things to share, and to learn from each other.

Something that you are refusing to give up?

I like that.

Since we've brought Perls into this, I'm sure you'll forgive me if I indulge an irresistable:

"Good! Now you be Bob and I'll be Marcia!"

Interesting dream, Bob.

Do you suppose the current one is related to world or national events? You mention calling "911." The anniversary of the terrorist attacks is coming up.

Interestingly enough, I think the fight was predictive that a late summer cold/virus was about to "jump" me.
I have a decades long relationship with this thing, which has been variously defined as a virus, pneumonia and bronchitis. It strikes once or twice a year and is almost an old friend, playing Red Baron to my Snoopy. (I have inner-dialogued with it and reminded it that, if it kills me, I'm going to be cremated, making its victory rather short lived. Literally.)

Alas, it took a little longer to get on the grass than those two Dream Dudes.

As to Charlie, he and I are at least on the verge of old age. A gentle reminder that we aren't going to be around forever; and that some things should not be let go of lightly.