I dreamt I was being chased by the Arab mafia. I was supposed to have a brother, or I was hanging around somebody else's brother. This brother had met some people that were throwing a party in a mansion and I went along. When we got there they put us in a room on the furthest end of the house, in a room where they were kneading dough for Arabian pita. There were men handling a very thin dough. For some reason I thought they were also making Eucharist. A large man started bulling us. The brother person was very cool but I was afraid they were fanatics and we had insulted them somehow. The very large man held a pen to my head and he claimed it was a gun. At some point that he was talking to the others and his grip became looser I turned his hand towards his oversize stomach that was at the height of my face and pushed the trigger. Nothing happened. He looked taken aback and although by that time I thought he was bluffing, I started believing that it actually was a gun. I tried to push it far from my head and shoot as soon as I could. We straggled for a little while and I pushed its trigger a couple of times more. Eventually I heard a bang and the tip of the pen was smoking. A clerk came in and said something about the chicken fights about to start and that the large man should go there because he was the referee. I grubbed the opportunity and run to the door.I fought my way out. It was very crowded and I kept pushing people aside. The men from the kitchen were chasing after me. I got to the door and managed to close them inside.They had a good grip on me but I hit their hands with the door. Then I started running like crazy. I kept looking behind my shoulder and despite the fact that I could hear them I saw nobody. I was running along with my dog that kept stopping to sniff and I was asking her to hurry. We got to a dark small grassy roundabout, in the middle of nowhere, and I tried to hitch a ride. A car stopped but it was filled with things because the people inside were going on vacation and they had taken so many things with them. Yet, they were traveling in a convoy with their friends. They said that there might be room in the next car. Indeed there was a very small space between boxes. I. and me squeezed in there and when they were about to close the door another dog jumped in as well. I told them it was not mine but they replied that there was no time.
Eventually I got back home. And it was not me any more. I was just hearing the story from M., P.'s friend. She was terrified that they would find her and kill her and that she would have to change her identity and go live abroad. She was also cautious about the brother. She went upstairs to make her suitcase and found him in his bed, sleeping. She told him off because she thought he was kidnapped. He said it was nothing.