Here are a couple recent dreams...
I decided it was time to go back to work full time so my father-in-law (a retired G-man) helped me get a job at the CIA. Absurd, you say? Don't they do background checks, you ask? But he thought it best to get a government job. Then my dad calls me on his cell phone and tells me how neat it is that his daughter works for the CIA. In fact he is so excited he is telling everyone he sees, even strangers while he walks his dog. Um, Dad, it's supposed to be a secret...
The Hubby, The Girl and I were on vacation driving through some odd town. We stopped for food at a furniture store with a lunch counter, kind of like a grimy hillbilly-style Ikea. We had to go through a turnstile to get into the furniture store part of the giant building. They said I couldn't take The Girl in but she could go into the child-care area. I thought it was weird that they didn't make me sign anything, but hey, there were furniture bargains just past the turnstile. So we went in and there was only junk.
When we came out they said The Girl wasn't there. Two guys said that if we came up with enough cash, we would get her back, no problem. So we debated on whether to call the cops, FBI or just go get loads of cash.
Then we ran into George Lopez as he was about to go skiing (?). He said the same thing happened to him. According to George, the kidnappers would ask for a second ransom, but that we would get her back. At that point I went ballistic (in the dream) and got quite indignant that kidnappers could not be taken at their word. How dare they get a bag full of money and not keep up their end of the bargain?!?! Is there no honor among thieves? Apparently, no. So I decided that the only way to resolve this was to get the FBI involved.
I went to an apartment complex and pretended I wanted to rent one. When the manager showed it to me, I told him that The Girl had been snatched by double-crossing grimy kidnappers who could not be trusted. The guy in the apartment was none other than Phil Collins!!! He agreed to contact the FBI (keep the local cops out of it since they may be involved, he agreed).
Then I went back to the hillbilly Ikea and demanded to talk to the head grifter/kidnapper. I gave him an earful and told him I that I had talked with George Lopez. He felt bad that I called their grifting/kidnapping practices into question. He agreed to give The Girl back, no questions asked. So she came out of the office just as two young FBI agents came in to investigate. We left and once again all was well with the world.