Here’s the dream I just woke up from: I had moved to New York to run a clothing store. In that store I would mainly sit in the dressing room, which looked like an opium den, and read the TV guide. This couple comes into the store and gives me a bag of pot. I hide it by putting it in plain sight on the floor under the table. The apartment I lived in opened up into a breezeway where water was dripping constantly. At the front of the building was a door which was painted on the wall. The door had the radiation symbol drawn on it. As I’m leaving the building, an asian man comes out of the shoe store across the street. He is dressed in black pajamas, like the Viet Cong. On my way to work I’m accosted by the local constable who wears a hat with a chinstrap on it. He wants to arrest me, but is unable to get out from under the steering wheel of his car because he is hugely fat. I try to adjust the steering wheel, but he just drives off. There is a train crossing with at least six tracks crossing the road. The constable drives across, just missing being hit by a train at the first rail, but being hit by a train on the third rail crossing. I woke up.