I hate having weird dreams. Last Night's:-
I stopped at an unknown service station where the person at the register was a long time family friend. I picked up some tinned sandwich-noodlecup thing (??), and held 2x $2 coins up towards him. He nodded that it was okay to eat in store before I paid him.
While looking at un-refrigerated yoghourt, a police officer started harassing me. She apparently took a dislike to the fact I did not appreciate the yoghourt was un-refrigerated.
I walked around the stand, and started looking at some other stuff. By this point, she had noticed that I was eating the aforementioned sandwich-noodlecup thing and asked if I had paid for it. When I mentioned that I knew the guy behind the counter, she interrupted and asked for my ID.
I then showed it to her in that fold out removable piece of a wallet some wallets have. To which she removed a pair of scissors from behind her back and proceeded to cut up bits of the wallet.
I of course questioned this action, and asked for her name and station. She handed my wallet back, showed a name badge 'Maralie Ranberk' and said she was based at Pooraka (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pooraka,_South_Australia). "Let this be a warning" she said then left.
My dream self then paid for the sandwich-noodlecup thing, got back in my car, and drove all the way to Pooraka.
This Pooraka was a concrete jungle of car parks. I had to park on the second level, and climb down between pylons covered in vines, jump across a few sewage drains, and then make my way to the footpath.
At this point, I knew something was wrong with Pooraka. Everybody appeared normal, but I just *KNEW* something was wrong. As if they were all Vampires or something. But I never found out what in the end.
Pooraka's police station was large complex. I had to walk through a Hospital and Air Port terminal before I got to the station. The person at the front desk of the police facilities helpfully directed my to the customer complaints department.
The Customer Complaints area was something else. Picture a dirty old concrete block of toilet cubicals. But instead of the normal wooden doors, there were large heavy iron gates. Behind which, Haitian Voodoo-DJ's were answering 'clients'. I spoke to someone in the end cubical, He was more interested in listening to 'phat beats' and stirring a nearby bubbling cauldron to be of any help.
Exasperated, I started to exit, when I bumped into my close personal friend, the Prime Minister of Australia Kevin Rudd.
Rudd called me by name and was happy to see a familiar face amongst all the weirdness of Pooraka. After some small talk, I explained the situation to him. He said he would look into it, turned to one of his Yes-Men and started to get action against Maralie for me.
Happy with this outcome, I thanked him and started my trip back to my car. He was busy for some election boosting thing anyway, and also wanted to get out of Pooraka as quick as I.
On the way out through the hospital part of the complex, I saw Maralie lounging back on a sofa all proud of herself that she convinced the Voodoo-DJ's not to help me. I lent over and said "I've just had a brief chat with my close personal friend. You may of seen him here, he's called Kevin Rudd"
Maralie was unconvinced, but I knew Kevin would not let me down. As I walked away, I could see her in a mirror, reaching for her smart phone, then frantically calling someone. Just as I turned the corner, a few MIB ASIO men had walked up to her panicked body.
I then smiled, turned the corner, walked back to the car park, got in my car and drove back home where I knew my yoghourt would be refrigerated.
the end.