In my dream I'm wearing a short go-go style outfit with little shisha lions all over it. I think it's blue. This group of people look like they've dressed like asian extras in a bad 60's James Bond flick. The colors are CRAZY.
So this little boy (we'll call him "Jason" because I don't remember if he had a name in my dream) comes up to me and basically clings to me. In my dream this is endearing, rather than annoying as hell.
So his entourage circles around me, nodding approvingly and giggling. I've been appointed babysitter.
At this point I have a swooping epiphany, and realise that these mild mannered japanese-american citizens are really MOBSTERS. *!psag* But I don't care, and accompany them to their apartment down the hall. Jason clings to me like wet pantyhose the entire time.
Now in their apartment, I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I find it, let myself in, and look in the mirror. There is something wrong with my reflection, and at first I can't figure out what it is. But then I realise: I ONLY HAVE ONE NOSTRIL. It's not that one is gone, it's that the cartilige that seperates my nostrils (normally) is GONE. I'm horrified to realise that it's due to excessive nose picking. I vow never to pick my nose again, and hope against hope that the cartilige will grow back. In the meantime, I'll just keep my face low.
So shocked am I about my nose, I don't even go potty, I just go back into the main room, which is packed with mobsters. But they all seem agitated now... what is it? Is it my nose?
No, as it turns out, a nearby volcano is exploding.
Well, isn't that nice.
We all take a minute or two to scream and make plans of escape, then we all flee. I call Matt at work (he's at work now *poof*) and ask him if he knows that there's an exploding volcano nearby. He says he knows and he'll flee as soon as he's done with this big project he's working on. In my dream this answer satisfies me, and I make myself busy running around and not accomplishing anything.
Somehow I make it to a mini-mart, where there is a line of beat up old white trucks. I see that Peate and Jim are there, so I enthusiasticly say hello and ask them if they know about the volcano. They say yes, but they are waiting for a ride out of town. Hmmm...
I wait with them... no ride.
So, Peate and Jim decide that they'll just take one of these beat up pick up trucks. I suddenly realise that the truck of their choosing only has remnants of tire left, and that they will never get anywhere. I scream at Peate to stop, but he's already started it up and is trying to back it out of the parking lot.
The smell of burning rubbber commences, and the truck spins out of control. I jump back up onto the curb because I don't want to be smushed by a truck. Peate is now thouroughly scared, but can't get the truck under control. It seems that the truck is possesed by some angry beat up truck spirit, with the intent to crush all in it's path.
Suddenly, it tips over and Peate leaps out, Jim following on his heels. We realise that the truck is about to explode, and all run for cover.
The truck doesn't explode, but just sits there on it's side thinking angry truck thoughts.
I wander up to Peate (and by this time there are chunks of ash falling out of the sky) and say "well, that didn't work."
Then I woke up.