Dream where i break some shit's nose lol

Right before this scene below I have a bottle of a murky liquid in my hands, in a bottle or some long square container with open top. Its green-ish grey. Mom says its a poison. But ive already taken a sip, on accident, i think, and im fine. She says something, but im getting impatient bc she doesnt understand. Its NOT what she says it is, what she claims it is. She is wrong. And in my hand its a tiret for washing machines (again? i wanted to type Again), and im trying to show it to mom like Look! see now? [maybe in a If it was poison i wouldve died already  Way? But what im holding in my hand rn IS poisonous, or toxic idk. Did she do it? or like Did it change because i was a subject to her opinion?]

Plus, theres a car, im not sure of the model. or rather mom isnt. is it mom? anyway, its emblem is three small squares arranged in a triangle or pyramid shape. Im watching brand new cherry flavor and Lisas car logo has reminded me of it. The model of car is a point of contention between us. like.. safe or not? mazda or honda? idk

 Я на школьном дворе, но нет. Митинг,  отошёл от мамы
I am that school yard, but not. Its a gathering of young ppl. A protest. I have separated myself from mum. Dont think she is happy but somehow she has to accept it. Young people are here. Its about rebellion, its about freedom. A bit messy but thats to be expected. 
I sit by the "curb" (its the skate ramp. like in Punk Fiction), its also a bench, "a binch!". B4 i sit, i see cops being around, in all black armor uniforms. This is uneasy. This is dangerous. 
Then after i sit and look around, just several youngins hanging around and not doing anything illegal or bad. And the cop i see when i look back is covered in slightly blue wrapping plastic, the saran wrap. He is calm, not angry, not trying to make anyone get arrested. He is just staning there, waiting. And I smile. This big smile with a tear in my left eye. A joy. I feel joy. I think i giggle a lil. I see another cop in the same predicament. He is walking around. The first one gets close to us. To theplace im sittin on. He isnt trying anything, he isnt doing anything, he is just staning there, waiting or watching. 
Oh, there's supposed to be some action, some performance or a speech, but its not going on yet.

Then this guy sits to my right. (Im already on a bench, a binch, already.) I decide to not let myself be involved in any convo with him, in any interaction. He is white, leather jacket, bald, or shaved. Unremarkable but unpleasant face. He is too close and i move (i think), slightly to the left. His leg touches mine, but it doesnt feel intentional or malicious, and I decide between pretending to ignore it (he came in contact or almost contact a moment before but i brushed it off. it was like when ive sat down on a sit next to a couple at the long table at the Punk Fiction bar. Just a stranger being close but not in a threatening way) and hoping itll go away and moving and angering him potentially, potentially making him start an interaction with me (ok this sounds like self-victimblaming). I decide to make a power choice and move SLIGHTLY to the left, just begin even (like i did at the vokzal when ive been waiting for a train back home). He IMMEDIATELY puts his leg on top of my right, to keep me in place. I stay a while (thinking, feeling i shouldnt move, or it WILL GET WORSE, abused minds feel this way, dont that, huh), then try to move again, he is feel-ably agitated, nervous, unhappy with my actions. scared??? (but liked under the radar. hiding it under the guise of anger). He puts BOTH legs on mine. I dont like being close to him and especially THIS fucking close, I am getting this anger that i am not allowed, prolly by maw, to feel, to express, to act upon, bc "this will cause shame or somehting". I try to move still and then he snaps (Even tho the whole crowd here would be upset with his behavior if they knew! nice) and angrily whispersays something like "DONT YOU MOVE. ХОЧЕШЬ МЕНЯ (пытаешься меня подставить гад??) ПОДСТАВИТЬ? Я натравлю на тебя таких [опасных] людей! Я таких людей знаю (something something mumbling). Двинешься я скажу сатанистам и они нашлют на тебя..." И ТУТ Я РАЗМАХИВАЮСЬ ПРАВЫМ ЛOКТЁМ И (before i have the time to Consider the Consequences, Legal and Otherwise, How that will Make Him Angry) БЬЮ ЕГО В МОРДУ И ПРОСЫПАЮСЬ В МОМЕНТ КОГДА Я ЛОМАЮ ЛОКТЕМ ПЛАСТИКОВЫЕ ПОЛОЧКИ НА МОЕЙ ДЕТСКОЙ ЛАМПЕ. I DID IT I WASNT PARALYSED
(the moment before he mentions satanists i AM actually afraid of doing anything to FREE myself, not EVEN TO PROTECT MYSELF. like i need to lay low so that he doesnt hurt me, further!
Im afraid that he really has friends who can hurt me if i dont submit to him, dont keep on not being free. but when he mentions sats, i SNAP! i realizefeel that HE HAS NOTHING and i CAN BE FREE and only THEN i could make myself - or rather go on instinct to - free myself. even if cops can see it and take me. since he didnt HURT me physically, u know? this isnt self defense technically in this fucking country! its physical violence. but this is a good violence. But i feel like i can claim emotional state as defense!)