Nightmare

This is at least the second nightmare I've had about her.
I'm in my old house in Logan, with my old bed and old white wicker furniture. It's before the closet was built in the corner. The white wicker resting chair is full of clothes, pillows, blankets. All colorful. The bed covers are slightly asunder. I created this safe place in my dream.
I don't remember most of the dream, but I do remember her confronting me, in my safe space, towering. Even though I know she's shorter, she's leaning over me, face red. I'm backing up. I trip over the edge of my bed but she keeps going. Suddenly she's removing her clothing. It has snaps all up the sides, like stripper attire.
She's leaning over my body, pressing against me. She grabs my hand and puts it across her chest.
I keep saying no, stop. Don't. Over and over. She doesn't. I'm about to cry, desperation in my voice.
Finally I say stop, or I'll call the police. She stands up very abruptly.
"That's all I needed to hear," she says, and stands up abruptly. She unceremoniously leaves the room, half clothed.
I sit on the edge of the bed, dazed and confused.
That's it.
She's not the enemy. But she haunts me enough.