One thing I'll say about this nightmare: I was fighting to get back to sleep to see the end. So I guess you'd call that more exciting than scary. Or it's a commentary on my unexciting life. The only really unpleasant part was that it started with a murder. Me and this totally fictitious guy were working for a small company. (All this may have something to do with the fact that I watched the 1951 version of "A Christmas Carol," "Scrooge" last night.) We sort of murder the boss. The idea was to get the payroll. Apparently, the company pays everybody in cash, or it wouldn't make much sense. We encourage everybody to bring in time sheets with the largest number of hours, and I practice forging the boss' signature. (Even in the dream, I knew that I wouldn't be very good at this, as I have enough trouble with my own signature.)
For some reason we had to go to Georgetown (100 miles or more from here). For some other reason, we stopped at a basketball arena. For yet some other reason, the basketball arena hadn't worked out for basketball, because the floor was too hard or something and players kept getting hurt. After this pointless digression, me and the other guy went to the bank.
At the bank, we thought we wouldn't get the money, but then they brought it out in big sacks and put it in a long wheeled conveyance like a '60s race car mated with a suitcase. There was a light inside at either end and we thought the dye packs were going to go off, but they didn't. We rolled it out to the parking lot and the other guy got ahead of me. I fell down a stream bank, a short but steep cliff and was hanging on and also keeping the money somehow slung over my shoulder, trying to make sure that the other guy had to rescue me before he got the money when my wristwatch alarm went off and the scene blew all to hell. I hit snooze and got back to sleep but never found out how it turned out. I'm probably still hanging off that cliff, holding onto that money. No wonder I'm tired!
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