I relayed the following dream to a friend, Eric, which included a man named Chester, which may or may not be a pseudonym. Don't worry, you don't know him.
I had a dream about Chester last night. He was the headmaster of my (British) grammar school, and he had plans to beat me for something or other. He took me away from my room, and walked me into a large hall. At this point, the left sleeve of my blue cardigan extended well beyond my left hand, and Chester was carrying it. I swung it back and forth as I followed behind him in the large auditorium, which was filled with my prepubescent classmates. They giggled at my antics, and I knew their affection for me diffused the situation. The performance started (think the midpoint between music, film, and theater), and my genuine affinity to the content further rendered his abuse unlikely. Seems there's a heart deep down in that massive barrel chest after all.