Cat-killer Karens on the attack, and William O. turns diners against me

I was at a steakhouse, or possibly a Home Depot, not sure which, as the vibe was similar, but the parameters kept shifting. There were wood floors, a velvet rope queue and lots of people with an impatient, angry disposition. Within minutes of entering the building, I encountered a couple of the worst of these in the form of two angry Karens, setting the tone for the rest of the dream.

I overheard two ladies (I will probably have to rescind that descriptor, but we have to start somewhere) discussing plans to kill cats. They were discussing atrocities in such a gleeful, dismissive manner that I felt I had to speak up.

"Animal cruelty is a crime," I said, raising my voice so that a few others in the line took notice.

 "Look at that one," angry Karen #1 sneered to her friend, a diminutive trench coat clad troll, with tortoise shell glasses and a bowl cut that aptly framed her perpetually scowling face. 

Karen #1 proceeded to launch a barrage of insults directed at snowflakes, liberals and anyone with a hint of compassion, but the target of her immediate attack was me. I felt the energy of the crowd become uneasy, as if they didn't know whose side to take in the developing conflict.

Karen #1 then produced two knives and hurled them with such precision and force that they stuck into the wood floor between my feet. I began to fear for my life, as it didn't appear that the crowd was going to come to my aid.

I hastened to the checkout area, now more identifiable as a Home Depot, where several people were finalizing their purchases. Ks #1 and #2 had followed me and appeared to have rearmed themselves with additional cutlery, which they brandished while making threats promising mutilation and torture. 

I am embarrassed to say that I clung to a small child at this point, momentarily using the youngster as a human shield. Realizing that this was wholly unconscionable even in a dire dream emergency, I released the child and made my way through the checkout without further incident.

Next, I found myself in an actual steakhouse, sitting at a table, family style, with William Oca Helton, AKA Uncle Bill. A lifelong conservative, he'd always been supportive of me, despite my hippy mom's leanings. As we finished our breakfast, however, his mood began to shift, and I felt a wave of disapproval sweep through the restaurant.

He was smiling as he raised his two middle fingers in my direction, and the rest of the diner followed suit. I got up from the table, returning the gesture and uttering the foul words associated with the two finger salute.

"Well, fuck you too, I guess," I said as I walked out. "All of you." 

I didn't regret giving the finger to a room full of diner patrons. I was sad about Bill, though. That one hurt.