I had a dream (in which I was a lady). I was driving down the road when I noticed driving to the left of me was one of those bullet-proof limos that the mafia are always driving around in. It was full of mafia guys and big huge bags of money. How did I know? Because the door was wide open! “Well,” I thought. “You don’t get very many opportunities like this.” And so I pulled my uzi out of my glove compartment, shot all the mafia guys, and took the big huge piles of money.
As I was driving away, it occurred to me. Wait, what if the mafia finds out about this and is upset? I decided that if I just kept a low profile, and didn’t spend a whole lot more money than I would have normally, then there was no way that they could catch on. I mean, I was just some normal lady driving down the street. I wasn’t involved in the mob in any way. If I was flashing a bunch of bling, okay. That might get suspicious. But if I just lived my normal life, but maybe didn’t have a job or whatever, who would ever know?
So I took the money and hid it in normal-looking things. I folded bills into the pages of magazines. I folded bills in the middle of sweaters. I stuffed teddy bears with it. Eventually, you couldn’t tell that these things were stuffed with money.
I had a good plan, too. My parents were fixing up a new house – a second home. It was very rough and not nearly done. I could hide my stuff in there. So I drove my stuff over there. (btw, my parents were played in this dream by my actual parents).
When I got there, I discovered that the house was a lot further along than I thought. They had finished the basement and were hanging out there. Well, now I had to come up with an excuse for why I was walking in there with a car full of laundry baskets and moving boxes. I thought quick. I told them that my husband had left me. Could I stay in this house for awhile?
It’s a pretty good plan. I could stay in my parents’ second home. Share it with them. Pretty soon, I could “reconcile” with my husband and we could live there together and go on trips and stuff all the time and have a pretty darn good life. If we just kept a low profile and didn’t spend ostentatiously, the mafia would never know the difference.
Well, the next scene – the epilogue – was a flash-forward. It seems that by this time, we had kicked my parents out and finished the house in an extremely swank style. We were hosting some sort of a VIP party there, with tuxedos and stuff. We were introducing people to our live-in maid slash concubine that we paid not to talk.
WHOOPS! I guess that whole “not spending ostentatiously” thing didn’t last very long.
At least I woke up before the mafia found us.