I'm in a bar, a restaurant type place kind of like the hangouts in early 90s sitcoms about teenagers, but much darker, and it feels as though I know this place. I am there with people who I suppose to be my friends, although none of them look anything like any of my actual friends, and I never once call them by name.

All but one.

I'm sitting with my friends, smoking cigarettes, bullshitting, what I suppose we consider usual, when someone comes over and begins to insult us. It isn't as though he is a complete outsider, he is "one of our friends," although not one any of us considered to be a good friend.

He is the one person in the dream who still has the personality and likeness of someone I know and slightly dislike in real life. I will not say his name, but will call him Big Al, as this is what we refer to him as anyway.

I remember knowing Big Al's full, real name in the dream, and saying it once or twice. He tells us how he raped this girl he dated, someone we know, and this upsets me, so I go over to the table he is now sitting at and proceed to grab his genitalia hard, muttering something really mean under my breath.

This would be almost normal if it weren't for what comes next.

The cops show up, and they are looking for me. I am beckoned from across the room to sit at a table for questioning. I glare at Big Al and start for the table. When I reach it, two of my friends are already there: a very attractive, alternative looking boy, and a mousy girl sitting across from him. I sit down next to the boy, and am very careful not to touch him although the urge strikes me, because I know the cops are on us for rape.

I'm not sure why I know this, because I haven't raped anyone, but I know that my act of revenge on Big Al was what spawned it.

My male friend and I look at each other and laugh. A cop dressed in normal clothes who resembles the man who was our waiter a few minutes before a little too much to be coincidence sits down next to the girl across from us and smirks at me. He begins his rant, and I continually interrupt him and scream at him, swear at him, as I obviously know I am innocent and don't care what happens to me. I have never yelled at a cop before.

At some point, he is explaining how and why I am in trouble, and somehow the mousy girl is sitting on his lap, and the boy next to me (and myself) is seething with anger at the cop's hypocrisy.

But he raped her, I know we both want to scream. And you have an underrage girl on your lap, so why should we listen to you? But we don't get a chance. I have been chainsmoking up to this point, and now the cop smirks his ugly smirk again and informs me that it is only 6:30. This amazes my friend and I, and we look at each other and laugh.

At this point, I wake to loud rap music playing a few doors down the hall. I growl, remembering the cop and Big Al in my dream, and look over at the clock, which reads 6:30 p.m.