Dream About Divorce And Kidnapping

In real life, my parents are divorced, and I’ve been trying to decide which one I want to live with. One night, I had a dream that reflected the emotional weight of that decision. The dream began with me leaving my mother’s apartment in New York City to pick up a shipment of supplies that my father needed for his business. In the dream, he didn’t know I was doing this—I wanted to surprise him by helping out. The shipment was located in a place called “Complex” in Boston, which doesn’t exist in real life, or at least I’ve never heard of it. Since my father has access to my location in both real life and the dream via “Find My iPhone,” he noticed I had left NYC and called me to ask where I was. I explained that I was doing something kind for him—going to pick up the supplies as a surprise. Instead of appreciating it, he became furious. I remember being in an Uber at the time, crossing a bridge on the way to Boston. Through the window, I saw several enormous private yachts and, unexpectedly, a submarine surfacing and then submerging again under the bridge. After hearing my father’s angry reaction, I decided to turn back and not go to “Complex.” Before heading back to NYC, I stopped at a buffet near where I had turned around. There, I ate hibachi steak and shrimp, and I also had a plate of mussels. While I was at the buffet, things escalated. My father used the fact that I was far from home to tell the authorities that I had been kidnapped by my 26-year-old maternal half-brother and my mother, who (in the dream) was in the Dominican Republic seeing doctors. He claimed they took me away, even though I had gone on my own. I called him and told him that wasn’t true, but he hung up on me. I rushed back to NYC and met up with my older brother to explain the situation—how my father had falsely accused him of kidnapping me and was now trying to frame him as a fugitive. As we were walking home, I got a call from a police officer—an Indian man—who told me there was another officer waiting at our apartment to question me. When we got to our building, we started climbing the stairs to the sixth floor. My brother, who is 6’7”, moved faster than me (I’m 6’2”) because of his longer legs. Once we reached the fifth floor, he waited behind while I went up to the sixth floor to check things out. When I arrived, I spotted a cop hiding behind the staircase, leaning against a wall like he was waiting to ambush someone. We made eye contact. He was short, a bit overweight, tan-skinned, and said he was Puerto Rican. He came forward and started questioning me, but I refused to answer, telling him I was pleading the Fifth Amendment. That made him angry—he shouted, “Okay then!” and stormed back toward the elevator. I called my brother to come up, thinking we were in the clear. But as my brother came into view, the cop suddenly got back on his radio and yelled, “I found the fugitive!” Then he screamed, “If he runs, I’m going to shoot him!” aiming that threat toward my brother. I quickly pulled my brother into the apartment and locked the door. I told him to escape through the window and take the fire escape stairs. As soon as he climbed out, I closed the window behind him just as the cop began banging on the door, shouting that he was going to break it down. I yelled, “Don’t! I’m opening it now!” But the second I opened the door, he stormed into the apartment and shoved me aside. He ran straight to the window and stared at the fire escape—and then the dream abruptly ended.