In the first part of last night's dream, I was in a hotel room with a number of people. The hotel room had reddish walls, and was lit with orangey lights. I had the day of from school/work, and was relaxing. I went out to the front lawn, and was sitting in a chair, eating cookies. The cookies were a crumbly sort of milled oatmeal cookie, that were topped with "whipped cream" - the whipped cream was actually closer to meringue in texture, except that it was softer (like marshmallow but not sticky). I think there may have been chocolate on the cookie, too. The end result was that somehow the cookie had been made delicious but still healthy (low fat, low calorie). K., who was my best friend in HS, and who I later ended up not speaking to, wandered by and mocked me and my cookie cruelly.
I went back inside the hotel room, which was now lit with a softer, whiter light, and was now decorated in greys. I was now with my family. My parents were simultaneously themselves, and James-Bond-ian superspies. We had some sort of treasure in the hotel room due to some sort of shenanigans perpetrated by Bad Guys of some sort (bank robbers/terrorists/jewel thieves/something like that). I think it may have just been piles of money. My parents were off to meet with the Bad Guys in some kind of abandoned warehouse. I didn't think this was a good idea, but my parents were confident that they would be okay.
They left, and my brother and I went out to eat. When we came back, the door to the hotel room was now a National Post newpaper box, but more importantly, all of our stuff was now gone, because someone had stolen it. There was a cab out by the newspaper box hotel - I recognized the driver as a Bad Guy, and jumped in. He started driving away, and told me that I wouldn't get the money back. I put him in a painful thumb lock. He told me that if I didn't stop, the cab would crash, and neither of us would get the money. I told him that I would notify the police, and then did so by driving up to several cops by the side ofthe road and yelling "police!" out the window. A detective appeared out of nowhere, and talked to me about the money, and why my family had it. I explained the situation, and told him that we had only used a little bit for food, and that we wanted to do the right thing and return the money.
That done, the scene shifted, and now I was in a medieval arab city built from pale grey stone. The sky was clear and pale blue. The cab driver was now in period garb, and was angry. I was apparently still a badass, and defeated him without violence somehow, and walked away.
I can still taste that cookie.