I was in the most dangerous part of town you could imagine.  It reminded me of the most hellish neighborhood in the Australian Outback.  A large woman with a dark complexion came out of a building (which I associated with a prison) and asked me to do her a favor.  She said she needed help pushing a tissue through a slot across the street.  The tissue was draped over the end of a tool, presumably a screwdriver.  The task sounded simple enough, and she was pushy enough that I obliged.  She walked behind me, thrusting me forward rather gruffly, and I told myself not to take her behavior the wrong way.  I imagined that she had many children and was experienced in having to shove them around to keep them in line.  Up ahead I saw our destination, and it filled me with fear.  It was like a solitary phone booth, but it was a cage with prison bars, and it was virtually bursting with menace.  I suspected that someone criminally insane was inside that cell.  "What's going to happen?" I asked my companion.  "I don't know" was all she said, though we were both thinking that those bars could give way any moment.  When we got up to the cage, I saw that it was swarming with many people inside, all either criminally insane or hopelessly deformed monstrosities.  I couldn't help but wonder whether or not there were better ways to deal with these people than this outdoor cage --  weren't there advances in plastic surgery that could help?  Or were their grotesque deformities evidence of a twisted energy present at the time of reincarnation?  And should we be suspicious of dwarves?  The woman ushered me toward the bars, and I cautiously inched the screwdriver toward the bars until the tissue fell off and was grabbed by one of the crouching inmates.  Then the woman and I fled as fast as we could, lest the little prison cell break loose like a Pandora's Box and subject us to the fallout.  Later in the dream, I was telling this experience to my mother, and I recalled more details.  I remembered feeling that something had to be resolved regarding this prison.  I went back to it, and this time the inmates were quiet, calmly studying me.  I looked at my hand, then realized what to do.  The cage now inexplicably half full of water, I dipped the screwdriver into the water so as to drip some of the water onto my palm.  The water was thick and opaque and looked like semen.  I knew that I had to cut myself and allow the water to mix with my blood.  I knew that this water was from the River Styx, and that instead of poisoning me it would give me immortality.  I pushed the screwdriver (which I now noticed to be barbed) all the way through my palm without pain.