dreams and impaling...

Just woke up from a dream where I was a young woman starting to gain a mastery of fire, who met an older, very genial man who I rather wanted to fuck. He was quite amenable to the idea, but it turns out he was a monk (though not a very good one) in a religion that was a cross between every terrible thing about every religion ever conceived. We were walking down a dirt road, looking for a warm, convenient barn when I found this out. Because we came across a large group of terrifyingly aesthetic old men, with a beautiful young man in the center of their circle. When they saw the man I was with, they called to him to join them. He went and joined the outskirts of their circle, but did not take part as they beat the beautiful young man to death with heavy staves. They, of course, noticed his lack of participation (I, on the other hand, noticed only that he went to them when called, and did nothing to stop them), and decided he needed to be punished for it. They started beating him, and it quickly became obvious that they would not stop till he was dead. After a particularly brutal blow to the head, I couldn't take it anymore, and stepped into the fray. I grabbed a stave from a more fragile old man and started fighting back. I threw another stave to the naughty monk, and we fought together. But there were too many of them, and we began to lose. So, I conjured the warmth of fire to my hands, and created a wall of hot air to throw at them, pushing them all back to give us room to escape. But when they realized what I could do they displayed their own power, slowing time down for everyone, so we were running as though stuck in molasses. I knew they were just giving themselves a chance to compose something more intense, so I slowly put my hand in my pocket and wrapped my fingers around a coin. I concentrated all of my power into that coin, building more and more energy into it, till it was a vibrating mass of pure power contained only by the same time spell we were. I drew it out of my pocket, and was throwing it just as the monks got their shit together and withdrew the spell.
It landed in the midst of them, and was supposed to explode upon impact. Sadly, it did not. Stupid physics.
So, we were caught.
I was dragged to the ground, and even as I was clawing to get away, I felt a sharpened stake poking at my ass. I realized they were going to impale me, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. There was a monk sitting on every limb, and one holding my head. I had no more energy for fire, and the merry naughty monk was watching in helpless horror.
I felt the stake start to slide into my body, and I went inside myself completely. I couldn't hide from what was happening, didn't want to stop fighting. So I queried my body, looking for more, looking for a means. And I found a furnace. I found the source of my fire, a dragons belly inside my womb, fire pumping from my heart. I knew I could loose it, let it free and let it burn. The first thing it would burn, of course, would be me. And then it would consume the monks. But it wouldn't stop there. It would continue to consume as long as there was fuel to feed it. I saw the faces of all the people I had interacted with that day, all my family, flash through my mind.
But the stake was sliding deeper, and I was no martyr, to tolerate this death for the sake of those I loved. My last thought before loosing the bonds of fire was that a world that allowed these monks to live deserved to die. I woke up just as my skin caught fire and the monks mouths dropped open in terror.
And have spent the last hour trying not to imagine what it would feel like to have a stake shoved into your guts. And, in the way of pre-dawn wakeups, wondering darkly what would stop me from destroying a world that comes up with such creative forms of torture.