On the night of September 11, 2019 I dreamed that Dwight Schrute (from The Office) took me to show me his deathmatch arena. He had bought an old motel, most of which had been demolished. What remained were two 4-story towers (with one motel room per floor), accessed via ladders, with a hodgepodge of crumbling parking garages in between the two towers. The idea was that people would engage in 4-versus-4 deathmatches between the towers, then their rankings would determine on which motel floors they would rest. (I think the lower ranking participants got the upper rooms, thus punishing them with more ladders to climb.)
Dwight said something like, “I've provided everything except clothes,” then took me in his Pontiac Trans Am to explore the arena. We drove up a ramp then dropped off top the edge, surprisingly landing comfortably. Then we parked in an underpass and walked up into a parking garage. We walked through a couple of different spaces where there were a few pieces of furnature, like if a bunch of hobos had turned a parking garage into a living space. There were also a few clubs laid out for weapon selection in each space, and there were motion detectors set over the car ramps to act as intruder alarms.
A couple of men showed up and started shooting at me and Dwight, so I picked up a club to defend myself. One of the men got close enough for me to take a few swings at him, and then I woke up.