This was a
good one. Brought to you by an extremely
hot room and
cheddar cheese before
bedtime:
I'm in the process of moving house. As is often the case in my dreams, loads of people I know are peripherally present. I'm trying to pack boxes full of my stuff. (This reminds me of when I moved out of the flat in Wapping ... I hate fucking packing.) My Dad is telling me to hurry up. We keep getting interrupted by something. Also, I stop a couple of times to change my clothes for some reason.
Anyway, we finally get to where we're moving to, and I'm looking out the car window. There's a load of people outside. Brawling bikers. Someone tells me one of the hell's angels has the car keys. I see him. I call out the window for him to give the keys back. Then, I shout, slowly and deliberately : "GIVE. ME. THE. FUCKING. CAR. KEYS." Everyone is silent and the guy comes up to the car window. He hands over the keys, and explains that his biker gang are on our side (they're going to help move the boxes) but another biker gang is here trying to stop them. I think he has the car keys to stop us running off or calling the cops or not paying them or all of the above. (Oh, and the biker gangs are called, excellently, Gang X and Gang Y. Get a load of that, Freud.) Um, then I woke up. Cool dream.