And then that was a food-for-the-homeless kitchen I was volunteering at. And there was a small lizard critter who seemed so fragile as to be made out of paper, who I thought was attacking me but "he's one of our best volunteers". Oh. Okay.
There were lots of small kids, and you couldn't so much as give them a penny because the older kids would beat them out of it. So we got the bright idea of going where they all tried to sleep for the night (set at my elementary school in Hopedale) and paying the quarter (!) it would cost for each of the youngest kids to sleep in the shelter for the night. And there was a cross between a change machine and a payphone and a voice authentication system that a very fidgetty geek, another guy, and I were all changing our money at. Because we needed a quarter for each kid, I guess.
And suddenly the bag I was putting my change in had fireworks in it, which were not just fireworks but dangerous munitions, part of somebody's Nazi scheme. Insert showtune-y ode to Hitler here. Yeah, I know, everybody's doing it these days--what can I say? The song owed less to The Producers or Cabaret than to "Those Caanan Days" from Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat.
I was getting quarters for the kids as they (a bunch of white men and one woman--all the street kids were black) were singing about Hitler. At the end of the song I was all fumble-fingered and dropped the bag, which I knew the Nazis shouldn't get at, for some reason. That's when I woke up.
5 a.m. Adjust the air conditioning. Type up dream notes. Back to sleep.