I had a dream last night that my mother wanted me to go with her to Russia for one day. In the dream she was traveling for work, which is strange because my mother is a receptionist.
She told me to grab my winter coat and hat, because even though it is summer here, it was supposedly wintry cold in Russia. Then, suddenly, we were there, in a big ballroom at the Russian ambassador’s house. There were many young people there getting ready for some sort of clubbing or dance to start.
I remember noticing at this point that I was wearing blue jeans and my pink Remus Lupins tshirt.
A fairly attractive boy came over to me and somehow I knew he was the son of someone in power. He asked me where the bread was. I was confused and told him I wasn’t the bread maker. He then became angry when I asserted that I had never made bread in my life. He demanded that I leave.
There was an older, more polished man standing on the table and suddenly calling for my departure as well. For whatever reason, I took a rolled up poster of the table in front of me and threw it at him. I missed, but he tossed one at me. I ducked and grabbed another, landing this one through the space between his legs.
I noticed an older man looking at me and I held up my arms in the gesture for “That’s a field goal, Bob!”