I was dreaming last night, as I frequently do. Only, this time, I was having déjà vu. In my dream.
I was working with Sherlock Holmes, of all people. Sherlock Holmes as played by the one and only Robert Downey, Jr. In this dream, we were looking for some nondescript villain. I can remember no specific details about the villain. And he’s not really important to the story. The important thing is that I got to hang out with Robert Downey, Jr. How many of you have done that?
During my dream, my dream self realized that things seem very familiar. “I’ve been here,” I say. Everyone in the dream dismisses me. “Ok, buddy. If you insist. Whatever you say.” I demand they listen. “No. I know exactly how this ends.” I continue, “We end up on hovercrafts. One blue. One yellow. Sherlock Holmes comes back injured. The villain gets away.”
Then things get a little squirrely. The script changes. (Were this The Matrix, this is where the black cat would walk across the lobby.) Finally, your brain is like, “Dammit. We screwed up. We’ve played a rerun. Quick switch gears. But do it subtly.”
I go down the dead-end I knew I was going to go down. Two guys come out of the warehouse to help. This is new. I back down the alley. Amongst the piles of stuff on the sides of the alley, I see a bunch of Star Wars stuff. There were a few Millennium Falcons. I dug through the piles for a while, nostalgic for my childhood. I found a mint condition Stormtrooper helmet. The guy with you (I’m not sure who he was. Or who the girl was that was with us.) takes it. I found another helmet. This one had a pig nose. I don’t know why. It was funny, so I put it on. I’m not really sure what this had to do with anything, or what I thought this would accomplish on my mission.
As we are looking through stuff, we keep finding stuff to keep. Something catches my eye. As I go to look, I hear the guys who had just helped us start to walk around. That’s when I realize this isn’t just junk. They are selling all this stuff. Out of a back alley. By a warehouse. Or something. My “friends” hide.
My focus isn’t on the men anymore. I’ve moved on. Something has caught my eye. My “cover” is a diorama on a desk covered in stuff. I know this diorama. It’s like I’ve seen it before. The desk even looks familiar. I keep looking at it. Trying to figure out how I know it. Finally, I pick it up. I look at the bottom. There is a name. It was made by my brother. Not just in my dream. My actual brother. And I actually recognize it.
Then my brain is like, “Dammit! We screwed up again! Who is working the dream section tonight? Seriously.” And they jolt me awake, hoping I don’t feverishly type this all down before I forget the details.
I’m not sure what all was going on in there, but I think someone is losing their job over this.