I was a burglar. I’d committed many robberies, though I couldn’t recall any. I was on one particular job (which was in my old street, if not my former flat) while my girlfriend waited in the getaway car. I was angered by the lack of cash in the house, ranting and raving. These rants, and my later swagger, were somehow reminiscent of Joe Pesci in Goodfellas, I understood at the time. Yet there was also a likeness to the film Public Enemies. Despite this all taking place in the present day.
I had a brilliant idea. I would steal boxes of Cook’s Matches. Apparently the matches go for £1 each on the black market (who knew?). I stuck two boxes in my coat pockets and prepared to leave.
The whole time I’d been comfortable with evading the law. This was due to a human teleport system I’d cleverly nicknamed Human Dropbox. I realise that the name doesn’t really make sense (Dropbox clones the item, not transfers it). If the popo came to get me, the system would transport me out of the flat and into an empty bin on the other side of the street. There I’d either wait til the cops left or, if I was bold, sneak out and drive off and hope they didn’t notice. I don’t know why I could only teleport into a bin. This was a dream after all.
I didn’t need Dropbox anyway, and swaggered downstairs and into the car. As my accomplice started to drive, a family pulled up on the other side of the road. Two girls burst out of the car and ran towards us. As we drove slowly one smacked into the front of the car and rolled up the windscreen. Next, the girl sat in the road crying while her sister sat stunned behind her. We edged the car towards them, then realised that there was a third sister who’d somehow got trapped under our car. She was free now and was also crying. And then the dream ended.