I'm in my bedroom at the North Carolina house. My mom is cooking dinner. I get out of bed and climb on a diamond shaped piece of polished wood which glides me to the kitchen as if it were gliding across ice. I watch my mom a bit, then watch TV. The rest of the dream is the TV show:
We're now at the gang's hideout and the leader asks what they got. They open the rear of the truck and it appears to be full of hotel towels. The pencils are wrapped in the towels. The gang is unloading them, the leader angrily kicks them around. I think that's how they'll get caught: the good guys will find a pencil outside their hideout.
"Let's see what else it can do," the gang leader says. There are valves on the side of the truck. I'm watching the show from inside the show and fart a little. Somehow, the combination of my fart and the valves on the truck make a super-weapon - it's a huge jellyfish shaped ball of fire that flies through the sky. It has my name on it and I'm embarrassed that everyone watching the show will know I farted. Then I notice the middle initial is wrong and am a bit relieved. The last few letters of my name are also wrong.
The scene shifts back to the warehouse. One of the thugs is holding someone up with hooks through the nostrils demanding "Is there a name?" The suspended guy says a name but I don't hear it. The gang then takes off with a second truck and the scene shifts back to the gang's hideout.
A scientist type character is fiddling with instruments at gunpoint. I'm watching from the back of the room with a group of men who I and the audience know to be good guys, but the thugs don't. The scientist puts a small black foam slab into a slot in an instrument which spits it back out in four strips with some red lights on it. He steps away from the instrument which starts whirring loudly and sucking all the bad guys and evidence into the slot. The second truck was a set-up.
No comments:
Post a Comment