No one wants to hear what you dreamt about, unless you dreamt about them

Strange dreams last night. Couldn't sleep for and hour or so and like most things it was over as soon as it started. Mechanic St. is an emergency service vehicle access road and I get to hear every emergency. Not long after that there is a thunderstorm which requires the shutting of windows and balcony doors. When the sandman finally does come, like I said, fucking weird dreams.

The most striking one:
I am in an unnamed African country, I think it might be Lesotho. I am working on a story or taking some kind of trip. Either way I have an assistant with me and we both write lots of things down. Somehow during our travels my right hand is injured in some manner or another. The solution to this problem is to nail my hand to a board of some kind. This seems to make perfect sense to me, you know . . . to keep the hand straight? We are treated well in the town or village we are in and the local officials offer to nail my hand to the traditional hand-nailing-to-board, which happens to be attached to some weird penal cage.

I am now standing in the desert nailed to a wooden cage that has, ostensibly, criminals locked inside of it. The cage was constructed in the following manner: imagine you have several 2.5'x2.5' wooden cubes. Now imagine you stack 3 or so on top of one another as a whole unit of maybe 6' or 7' by 2.5'. Immediately adjacent to this you stack 2 cubes and next to that you stack 1 cube in a sort of staircase design. Each stack of boxes is a cell and they move from relatively comfortable to oppressively small. These cages are mostly wood with some wire on top for rain or something to get into, I'm not sure.

So, I'm standing there with my right hand nailed to the tallest cage, but my long sleeved shirt keeps covering up my hand so I can't tell if I'm holding it straight, and for some reason pain is not notifying me of such, so I demand my assistant un-nail me from the cages so I can change shirts. In attempting to remove the nail he somehow loosens the smallest cage enough for its inhabitant to scoot himself out of. He does this very slowly as the village officials come running over demanding to know what we've done. Comedy of errors ensues and no one but me seems to notice that this prisoner is slowing scooting himself away from his cage. I am looking directly into his eyes shouting for help as I somehow sense danger. Suddenly I am eating a large piece of meat (perhaps I'd had it the whole time, hard to say.

The prisoner begins moving toward me. I am screaming. He stands and lunges at me and as he does he transforms into a brilliant white savage cat of some kind. His jaws glisten and are coming right for me. I tear off a piece of meat and throw it. He catches it. He continues through the air. I throw the rest of the meat at him. He devours it. I tear my nailed hand away from the cage. He is at my throat. No one notices. I am screaming. He is making headway against my defenses. Suddenly I have his hind legs. I pull him away from me. I grip him securely with both hands and dash his head against a rock. Over and over I am slamming his head into the Earth like a sledgehammer.

Dream over.