Screaming or howling

I am in some sort of place of education. I realize that, unfortunately, I am back in high school. I am having a hard time grappling with the premise of the dream, but I am relatively sure that there was some sort of agent woman following me around. She is really beautiful dressed in all black, a tight form fitting black outfit with aviator sunglasses. I am on a crowded street by the institution. I can feel her in the distance behind me, scanning and clinging to my every move. I see a trolly car, like the ones in San Francisco. Except, this one was brown instead of red - full of plastic people in business suits, sporadically placed people who did not belong in the mesh of them all. She finds me. I realize that she is not an agent at all, she is <PERSON>. We are in an old study of sorts. I am holding a gun, as are several other people in the room. There is a man, he has a broad smile and a gun pointed to my face. He pushes me inside another study, we are alone now. We start firing shots at each other, but the bullets are so small that our skin just absorbs them. At this point, we are almost having a good time shooting each other. My gun runs out of bullets and I ask for another gun. I point and shoot, only this one is met with an explosion of blood. I scream and run to the man. He is wrapped in thick spider webs that almost form a cocoon in a spiral pattern around his body. I realize that he is <PERSON>. "I am your boy," he says, as the blood seeps into my hands and his body begins to fall apart in the pattern of the spider webs. Two Donalds walk in the room and tell me not to worry because there are many of them, and I will always have one. I am too upset to comprehend this, and tell them that it does not matter, that I cannot let any <PERSON> die.