Places I visit in my dreams

There was a dirty cop in my latest dream, a charmingly cynical Latina with long eyelashes who casually stole because she could. She palmed twenties laid on the bar by men buying her a drink. Some of the bartenders were onto her, but they were also smitten, or bemused.
Her hands were hummingbirds, hovering momentarily in flight.
While in uniform, she sometimes took money or other tokens from slobbering drunks late at night, but only the mean ones. They reminded her of the men in the Bronx where she grew up, the ones always hitting on her, or the ones who hit her, like her father. That's why she was a cop.

A dream or an Inuit folk tale? Coming upon an unknown presence, something moving under filthy blankets piled next to a doorway, the people of the tiny village can't figure out what it is, but they know it is evil, not quite human. They glimpse red eyes.
It will not leave, and will not reveal itself.
To take upon themselves the collective guilt, they rush in with knives, stabbing, stabbing.
It escapes by rising into the air, suspended there like a really high blanket toss. Their monster has been transformed into an unharmed laughing baby boy.
They feel intense shame. It is a test they have failed.