Most nights, I have a few different dreams. But usually there’s only one I can remember the next day, if any. It would be a shame to let these dreams remain entertainment for only one person.  Follow-up questions included.

I ended up with some distant ties with the Russian mafia, somehow. Location: New Orleans. Two men were tied up in a warehouse. The building had been doused in gasoline. My mission: To simply walk by the front of the building, shielding my face from the security camera, and throw a lit match on the doorstep of the warehouse. Which would inevitably remove the existence of the two unfortunate men inside who found themselves at odds with the Russians.

I walked up to the building and attempted to strike the match, but my nervous fingers failed me. But if I didn’t complete the mission, I could easily end up in that warehouse with the other guys who were tied up to chairs with handkerchiefs in their mouths.

Then I got distracted because my wife called me to let me know we had been invited over to dinner at another married couple’s house. I ended up not striking another match but going to the dinner instead. But then, a terrible thing happened. The other couple had graciously made a delicious pepperoni pizza for us, not knowing that neither of us ate pork. Awkward.

End of dream.

Follow-up Questions:

1) What was the Russian mob doing in New Orleans anyway?
2) Was I actually willing to finish off the Russian mob’s victims?
3) How did the other married couple not already know we don’t eat pork? It’s our responsibility to let them know beforehand.