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Some other people and I were being chased by a group of guys. We were on an open plain, it was a sunny day, and I could see mountains in the far distance.
Some of the people chasing us were wearing loincloths, like they were a tribe of cavemen or something.
They carried rocks, and as we ran they threw them at us. A rock or two hit me on the head, and it hurt really badly. They caught up to us and started giving us a beating. I was knocked down.

Somehow I realised I was dreaming.
"This is crazy, I must be dreaming!" I thought. I did a quick nose-pinch, and sure enough I felt that awesome sensation of breathing through a shut nose - it was awesome because it meant I was God in this world.

Standing up, I decided to exact my revenge. Extending my arms, I felt the need for vengeance rise inside me. A swarm of bees flew out of the sleeves of my shirt, and descended upon my enemies. The attackers were engulfed - payback.
Fade to fragments.

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All was dark. I knew I was dreaming, so I decided to create some light. People often said voice commands worked, and there was my chance to try it.
"Let there be light," I said feebly.
Why couldn't I shout? I wanted to say something epic in a booming voice, that would turn on the lights. But my voice was so quiet!
"Activate... light," I tried to say. It was like my vocal chords had gone weak - I could hardly speak at all now.
And so I was doomed to blackness.

Apparently, me and my parents were going on a rollercoaster trip across the country.
We sat in a Minecraft style cart, and set off along the tracks. I asked my mother how much the trip would cost, and she said "Hmm, well let's see, about a few million pounds".
I was shocked - in this dream, we had about 9 million pounds to spare (wtf) but I thought this was a massive waste of money even so.

I knew that we had booked some gay singer (Wallace from Scott Pilgrim or something, not that he was a singer), and I heard the music as we rolled along the tracks. Below us were plain green hills, but I saw him standing far below, singing for us, with a crowd around him.
I thought how lame the music was, and that it was a waste of money, again. But then something occurred to me.
"Rollercoasters...
They have big drops as standard. That's not good!" I thought.

INTERESTING REALISATION:
It seems like I can predict bad things happening in my dreams. I have a sort of basic awareness - "things I don't like happening often do happen if they can, in my dreams".
Does that make sense? It's probably because I've had a fair amount of dream experience, so I've become a dream-pessimist.
However, I think these things happen because most of the time, I expect them to. Ironically, if I shut up about it and stopped worrying, I would have nothing to worry about.

Anyway, my expectations did not fail me.
"Oh no!"
The coaster dropped down, perfectly in time with the singer's music, oddly. I felt the G-force as though it were real.
It was a perfect imitation of real life. I was dropping down, hanging on for dear life, the G-force pulling at my chest and stomach, until the coaster came to a slow.

I knew it wasn't over.
My vision went suddenly dark, and we dropped again and again. Falling, falling, falling.
Eventually, the light returned, and I discovered we were simply rolling alongside mountains! I clung on tightly, thinking about how dangerous the situation was.

At last, we lowered slowly to the ground, into some sort of station amidst the green hills. It became apparent to me that it was also a hospital. I was given a long black rubber tube, and somehow it was vital. We were still moving, albeit slower than normal.
I had a random fit of rage at the hospital.
"I hate them, I hate this place! They ruined my life! Screw you all!" I shouted, and threw the rubber tube down onto the tracks.

(I should note that in real life I had an operation last year, and recently I have been a bit worried, because I know I still have a lot of mending to do and I am afraid to do the things I used to, because they might hurt or damage me. However I in no way hate the hospital, if anything I am grateful. Still, mixed feelings often lead to anger in dreams, when our emotional side is stronger than our logical side)

I came to my senses as quickly as the rage had begun, and got worried.
"I... I need that, don't I?"
"Yeah" my Mum replied.
"Oh God... I shouldn't have thrown it, what do I do? WHAT DO I DO?" I cried out. For a reason I'm not quite sure of, that tube was very important. So I decided I would jump off the coaster and get it.
"I'll jump off and grab it, but how do I get back on? I'll be left behind!" I said, my guilt building up inside me.
"Ring this number," my Dad said, and told me some long telephone number.
"But that's too long! I won't remember that!" I said. I jumped off the rollercoaster, and started jogging by the side of it. I knew I could outrun it at that point, but it was turning the corner into the straight, and would soon pick up speed.
I ran back in the opposite direction for the tube, hoping I would be fast enough.

Next thing I know, the scene changes and I'm in the hospital by the station. I was in a relatively small blue-white room. A doctor was just done checking my chest.
"OK, next I'll need to check, well, you know," he said.
"What, you mean... those things?" I said, motioning downwards.
"Yeah, sorry, it's part of procedure."
So, I lied down on what looked like a reclined dentist's chair.

The scene changed, and I was standing in the room again.
I wondered what had happened. It was like he had never mentioned anything of the sort, an alternate reality or something.
"OK, so I'll take some scans of your chest, just lie down please," he said calmly. I did as I was asked.

Instant scene flip.
I was in a different doctor's room, which had walls a slightly subtle shade of red. I was still lying down, in the exact same position as before. There was a different doctor standing over me.
"What happened? I was just there... did I go under anaesthetic or something? I don't remember that happening, this isn't right," I said, beginning to doubt the realism of the situation.

Then I woke up.

I remember talking to someone, but I'm not sure who. I know I had a pistol - but here's the thing - I had one bullet, and inside it was gold dust.
Somehow I ended up in a bar, with my father as the bartender. I told him about the bullet, saying it was worth $24,000 dollars!
He offered me a drink.
"Yeah I'll have, like... uh, a gin and tonic or something like that, I don't know" I replied. It's worth noting I'm under the legal drinking age in my country.
So he poured me one. I drank it, and it tasted quite delicious! I relaxed a little. It was like a slightly bitter Sprite.
From there on the focus was on the gun, and I knew I needed it for some reason, but I didn't want to fire the golden bullet, as it was worth so much.

I walked around some quaint little town for a while, and other stuff happened which I don't remember.

In the end, we met up with my mother - she was furious at my Dad for giving me a gin and tonic.
I was writing that I'd had a gin and tonic in my diary, but I decided to rub it out.