A noise that might have caused displeasure...
Wow, I saw this just now. What an intense dream!Just now (well, maybe half an hour ago) I dreamed that I was in a posh house, where, apparently, I lived. I was talking with a boy (maybe around ten years old, but hard to tell) who, at some point, told me something to the effect of "It sucks that you don't even have a swimming pool in the garden behind the house. I know you have one in front of the house" (a swimming pool could indeed be seen through the glass doors) "but you don't have one behind." I replied: "Yes, we do!", and led him to the garden behind the house. But as we got farther and farther into it, there was no swimming pool in sight, and, as we reached the end of it, I was forced to admit that there was none. "But," I said, "look; we have a graveyard and an old church instead; isn't that super cool?" Indeed, below a slope at the top of which we stood, there could be seen a graveyard and a church, with preparations going on in front of the church for an office or religious festival or something like that. (A detail I recall is that portable — but still relatively big, though less than a human's size — white crosses had been put in a box presumably for people to take.) The boy, however, flew into a rage that I had lied to him about the swimming pool. He crossed the garden back to the house while I vainly attempted to placate him. Then, still angry, he spoke to his father, and his father asked me what exactly had happened. I was too ashamed to tell the entire truth — namely, that I had myself thought there was or at least might be a swimming pool behind my own house while there was none — so I told him that I had intentionally lied about the swimming pool in order to surprise the boy with the graveyard etc.; that I'd thought he would like it, though I'd obviously been wrong. Then the father scolded his son saying, "Don't be stupid! What's cooler, a swimming pool or historical, heritage stuff, a graveyard and church and the remains of an old town house?" (Apparently there was that, too, though I hadn't been aware of it.) Then they went away, the boy I know not where, the father, I believe, to the end of the garden and the church etc. After a time, the father came back (we were in a white-walled corridor at this point) driving captured men (I mostly saw one but I think there were two or three) who he said were terrorists. It wasn't clear to me if they really were; they (or at least the one I saw) looked potentially suspicious but I didn't have any proof of their guilt. The father of the boy cut off the man's entire beard with one motion, which made the man's eyes water, and told him things like "You'll see, you'll cooperate with me; you'll have nothing to eat; three hours in that cell will make you look ten years older" (the man already wasn't young). He sounded as if he meant to torture and even perhaps kill them. I was terrified and sorry for the putative terrorists and, standing there crying, I told the boy's father, "Please be a little calmer with them." Then the boy's father came to me, angry that I was trying to defend his captives, and said, "What, you'll share their cell, then?" The captive, apparently moved to see me cry for him, then spoke to me and told me cryptic, half-reassuring, half-potentially-worrying things (if the guy was really a terrorist) along the lines of "Don't worry; it isn't all over."
I woke up actually crying.