Snacks From the Butler's Pantry

My alarm wakes me up. I switch it off, then lie still to try and recall my dream. I have memories of a long, involved dream about a luncheon with President Bush, and run-ins with law enforcement. My memories become very vivid, and I am back in the dream.

I stand on Main Street in my hometown, lucid and aware. A police officer is walking down the street towards me. I know I should wake myself up to keep from sleeping in, but I am curious to see what he has to say. He approaches, and asks, "Sir, what is that?" I look down at what I am holding, and reply, "It is a samurai sword." He asks smugly, "Do you have a permit for that?" I answer him, "A dream permit for my dream samurai sword? Are you kidding?" He looks confused, so I continue, "Do I need a dream permit to stab you in the chest with it? Or a dream permit to cut off your dream policeman head?"

He continues to question me about a conspiracy against the president. I explain that it was a dream I just had before this one. It is not real. I leave him standing there jibber-jabbing and go exploring. I am in a train station full of all my friends. We run around together cutting down power poles and street lamps with our comically large samurai swords.