The dream I remember from last night was unusual, in the it was a middle of the night dream instead of the morning - when i woke up after, and rolled over, thinking it was morning, the clock read 2 am.
I dreamt that I was a badass professional thief of some sort, working with a blond woman to steal some kind of expensive art. We had assualt rifles, and were wearing light blue coveralls and baseball hats, I guess to pass as maintenance workers. We grabbed a bunch of loot and made it out to our getaway van (which was driven by a similarly dressed skinny Jamaican man with short grizzled dreds and beard).
We drove off, thinking that we'd made it out unnoticed since there was no pursuit. It quickly became clear, though, that the police had blocked off every route out of the area. We found a house (which I think was an embassy of some sort), and figured we'd hide out there for a while.
We went inside, and got settled. After a short while, though, it became clear that there were Federal agents inside, looking for us. I went to the bathroom, which had grey concrete walls, and dark orange stalls. As I stood there doing my thing, I found myself flanked by Feds. One Fed, who did most of the talking, was played by Pez' brother-in-law - he was "good cop" telling me how it'd be easier if I gave up, and maybe the DA would go easy on me, etc. The other guy, played by Pez' old uni buddy W. was Bad Cop - apparently, we'd killed a friend and coworker of his in our escape, and he was pissed.
I let them take me. I was then interviewed by a woman in a black formal dress of the sort that comes with a short waisted suit jacket. I was pretty much accepting the blame for what I had done, until she mentioned something that they had come across. I recognized it as some sort of horrible artifact of evil that they were going to unwittingly unleash, and I begged them to destroy it. I knew that I was going to be executed for my crimes, but that many would suffer if this thing got loose. My death would be horrible, painful and involve some kind of oozing green goo as part of the artifact.
I ran from the room, and burst into a small cocktail partyish scene. The blond was there dressed as wait-staff. She pretended that she had neither seen nor recognized me. I was apporached by a tall, broad African man ina green robe with gold embroidery on it. I begged him to kill me before they got to me. As the Feds and their boss came in, he pulled out a small swiss army knife, and used pressed the dull blade slowly through the top of my skull (I was bald in the dream). I remember the pain, and thinking that it was taking a long time - that the pain should be stopping as I died, while it kept getting worse. Eventually, the scene went white as I died.
The scene shifted, and my body was on the living room floor of a modest suburban home. A family stood shocked around the corpse. The father was going over the things that should be done, and people who should be called in this sort of freak occurance (I think the body was there when they came downstairs in the morning - the morning sun was still lighting up the fornt windows of the house.)
The younger daughter was wearing a blue shirt, and had long dark hair. She was talking about respect for the dead, and taking things seriously. The elder daughter had blond, over-worked hair (crimped, like a late-period Tina Yothers on Family Ties), and was complaining about how this was going to mess up the planned lunch out with the family, and voicing concerns about my body messing up her plans to go to the mall later. I think the mother was heavily doped on valium, and not really paying attention. She had chin length dark hair shot with grey.
The younger daughter could see my ghost somehow, as a sort of ethereal white mist streaming in the centre of the room.
Around then, I woke up. I didn't sleep terribly well last night.