The other execution dream was really odd. It was like some art film from the 1970s. It was set in the kitchen of a house I lived in in the 70s, with everything enamel white. There was a group of Japanese people. The condemned was a young man, about 20, in a suit and tie. He was extremely calm and composed. There was a young woman tending to him, an executioner with a sword, and a few other people there officiating, observing, reporting.
The condemned man was bidden to lie down on a counter with a black block for his neck. When I realized what was about to happen, I ran out of the room. I had some kind of sense it was a dream and I told my brain I don't want to see this, but even though I was out of the room in the dream I was still subjected to an over-the-shoulder view of the first sword strike; the neck opening like a ham steak. I say first because, as I huddled in the stairs that led to the second floor, I could hear the sword fall five or six times. I was appalled at the cruelty of procedure. Despite being where I was, some blood still spattered into the stairwell and a bit onto me. I was wearing a white t-shirt with some kind of Canadian flag logo on it... all red, of course... and I was disturbed by the speckles of blood sullying the shirt.
When the execution was over I went back to the kitchen. Everyone, including the body of the executed man, had moved into the living room, so I was there with just the young Japanese woman, who was just finishing cleaning up. I complained about my shirt and she hurried to wash it before the blood could set in. I asked her why the man had been executed. She told me he'd ordered some tea or coffee, and had stubbornly insisted he didn't like it. He wouldn't change his mind, so they executed him.
Though the dream wasn't at all funny, I'm suddenly now reminded of this...