Michael Moore (admiralmemo) wrote,
Michael Moore

Last Night's Dream

I was some sort of secret agent, tasked with delivering a bomb to some sort of frozen headquarters. All the guards were wearing Communist Russian outfits, similar in style to the "Nuclear Winter" guard outfits from Freedom Force. The dream started with me and the briefcase bomb, where I was plastering myself up against a metal wall outside the complex, looking for guards. The briefcase was red, and it had a large number pad taking up 3/4 of the top side. While, in retrospect, I don't think I was very well hidden, in the dream I thought I was, and the guards didn't see me. There were three guards within my field of vision, the farthest one standing still, and the other two patrolling in opposite directions. While inching along the wall, I heard arguing among many people in some foreign language (or multiple foreign languages) coming out of a small air vent above me. I passed a few doors quickly once the guards weren't looking my way, and hunkered in a corner between a flat wall and a large circular protrusion from the main building. What turned out to be a large circular room had a giant window on the side facing me, and outside the window appeared to be metal benches, which I scampered to hide behind and/or under. (It was not the most well-hidden spot, in retrospect, but I thought it was good in the dream.) Out of the room that I'm hiding in front of come the sounds of the argument. I know I'm trying to get into the complex, but this room is not my target, so I need to sneak through it somehow. Well, just as I'm thinking this, while watching the three guards I could see, I felt an automatic rifle to my left temple. I slowly got up, leaving the briefcase, and was silently escorted through the room with the argument (which now seems similar to the foreign dignitary argument in the old comedic Batman movie from the 60s). None of the people took any notice of us. All of the guards followed the guard escorting me, and one of them picked up the briefcase. The guard escorted me to one room while the three other guards took the briefcase off to another room. The room I was walked into, and subsequently through, was a long boardroom where many middle-aged men were discussing something. Most were American, but there were a few Japanese men scattered in the mix. There was some disagreement notable, but there was mostly an air of a good time, with some men laughing heartily and a few smoking cigars and leaning back in their chairs with their feet on the table. No one in this room took any notice of us either. I was led finally into a back room where I was left by my guard and found myself in the middle of a bunch of people lounging about. The master of this headquarters was a dark-brown-haired woman in her 30s in a leotard and fishnet stockings, holding one of those old-timey, long, black cigarette holders with the horned end. She had a very slight Russian accent. She said, "Well, well, well..." and looked me up and down, sizing me up. She then said, offhandedly, "I believe you know my friends." I looked around and saw Putin, Castro, and some young, British-looking guy in a Catholic clergy outfit who was significant in the dream, but I don't know outside of it. (He looked vaguely like Tony Blair, but not a lot.) I knew this guy in my dream as a guy who was supposed to be on my side, and I figured he was the one who sold me out. All the rest are pretty indistinct now, but there were about 20 of them, all some sort of world dignitaries. Looking back at the woman, she said, "We both know why you're here, and who sent you, so let's get straight to the point. Give me the code for the bomb and you can go free." (Who I was sent by was the U.S. military, though, of course, I didn't know about that until she mentioned it in the dream. Dream knowledge is funny that way.) I highly suspected that she was lying, and would not let me free. I told her the truth, though. "My superiors did not give me the code to disarm the bomb, and told me that if any incorrect code is entered, the bomb will go off. They gave me a code, but they told me that there was at least one error in it. I can give that to you, if you want." This bomb, I remembered at this point, would explode and blow up the whole complex. It was not on a timer. (In retrospect, I think it was on a remote signal, but that's slipping away from me.) The woman started mulling this over, when another woman, kneeling, started groping and pawing at her legs. The first woman playfully batted this woman off, saying "Stop that!" and giggled a bit. She then became serious again, and said, "Alright... Give me that code and I'll have our techs work with it." I was about to give out the incorrect code when I woke up. (No, I don't know what the code was.)
Tags: dreams

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