I was kidnapped. I found myself inside a hall which reminded of one used for PE. My kidnappers were two males, one a Hispanic-looking guy who I recalled having lured me into this with his charms. The other was a more non-descript Caucasian male. As I was sitting there, the Hispanic guy, who was standing with the other guy on the tribunes a few meters above me, continued talking to me about the dangers of a 'pussy cat walking alone' and such things.
I withdrew somewhat into myself after a short while, focusing on a way to escape. Maybe if I could take out one of those guys, perhaps then I would have a chance, show the others (I felt there were more) that things wouldn't go the way they expected. Maybe it would scare them off. So when both guys approached me I got up and attacked the Hispanic guy. I seem to recall my hands being bound, so I was using kicks only. At this point I seemed to drift out of my body, seeing myself fight against the two guys from a growing distance.
A young woman was talking about how I was missing and how I should be found quickly. An older woman agreed with her. I then saw an older man painting over some text on a low white wooden fence in front of a low building which I felt had to be the one I was in. The man was sighing about how things always ended up like this. I then found myself sucked into the door opening of the building.
I was sitting on a chair behind a small table which I thought felt similar to the old schooldesk my mom used to own. In front of me on the table were lying a fork and a knife, the first on the left, the other on the right. I appeared to be sitting in a hallway, with a door to my left, just behind me, and one to my left in front of me, plus another one in front of me to my right. I couldn't see things very clearly, it was as though I was seeing things through a kind of fog, a sort of tunnel vision.
The Hispanic guy came walking into my field of vision from my left. Without knowing why, I grabbed the knife with my right hand, closed my left hand over it and waited for him to come close enough. Yet when I could have stabbed him, I just couldn't find the motivation or energy or anything to actually go through with it. He kept walking around the table and I kept following him, every time unable to move the knife even an inch closer to him. Then finally he was standing to my right and, using his sweater between his hand, he took the knife away from me.
I found myself giggling in a very much crazy manner. Then when the knife was taken away, I kind of collapsed, sliding down on my chair and withdrawing into myself.