sickly theraputic lucid dream

This morning I had a dream that at first struck me as very odd.

The very first thing I noticed was that I had money in the dream- a full hundred bucks in fact. So I was in 7-11 buying some smokes (last week finances forced me to cut back from a pack and a half a day to less than half a pack a day, and now I just plain can't afford ANY).

But stranger still, there were these three guys behind me in line trying to rob the place, and the clerk somehow convinced them to leave her alone and take my money.

So here I am, being robbed by these three guys, and not only is nobody helping me, but people seem relieved that it's me and not them. And the whole situation is very under control. They aren't being threatening, they're just explaining that there's nothing that I can do and I need to hand it over, and although I feel really bad about it, I'm peacefully cooperating.

So far it is anything but a lucid dream. I'm really just an observer to a fantasy overtaken by a nightmare, which seems very loosely based on a bank robbery story i wrote (and recently re-read) called "Plan B". And based on the parallels there, i knew within a few minutes of waking up that it was about my financial situation, and that the robbers were in fact my bank, my creditors, friends and family in need of help, and of course my dear old uncle sammy.

However, all of a sudden 2 of the robbers disappear into a restroom for no particular reason that I can recall, and the dream began to take on a lot more lucidity. I was trying to convince the remaining robber to cut me some slack, and he basically out-debated me using the same arguments that the protagonist from my short story used to justify bank robbery, and next thing you know I'm agreeing with him and reinforcing his argument. Until at one point I said something about, "I know. After all your buddies aren't here, so if it was like that I could take a shot at you."
And thats when I finally got full control over the dream. Fighting back hadn't even occurred to me as desireable until that point, nor had I really decided anything the "me character" did in the dream.

But at that point, I drilled that dude right in the nose. I hate fighting dreams, because I can't feel my arms like in a real fight, so I feel slow and under-powered, which usually results in me either realizing I have sleep paralysis and waking up, or having a dream where I lose the fight. But the minute I hit the guy I was aware of what was going on, and I told myself, don't worry, it's hurting him. So I kept going. And with the realization that I wasn't really slow and underpowered, just unable to feel, I turned this figment of my imagination to a fine pulp- I've never seen such detailed carnage in a dream, but this guys whole face was just pouring black blood like a scene from fightclub when I was done.

I was in the process of locking them in a back room so I could turn my attention on the clerk that wouldn't help when I suddenly woke up. That last part does make me worry just a bit about where I stand subconsciously, but I'm confident I'll get back to a milder, more healthful level of repressed and misdirected rage once I find another job, so let's not call the men in white coats just yet.


Anyway, I just felt like sharing that, but I figured it was too personal to share with anyone but strangers.
And if that statement seems contradictory to you, then I suppose you could simply use it as a bit of evidence on the subject of using the recognition of sleep paralysis as a cue for lucid dreaming.