A bright early sort of morning. Many vignettes in this dream – no logical story. Living in a house on a big street. It’s a two story house built right to the street front. A drab grey-brown cement render. Below there are shops, so it’s a shop-top apartment I guess. Across the road and down to the left, but visible from our place there is a greasy mechanics/garage. The bloke who runs it is rough, but with a good heart. I’m over there having a chat getting something fixed up, when I talk to him about this would make a great cheap restaurant. Authentic atmosphere on top of the garage. Meals $10-20 changing menu, simple dishes.
I’m persuading Mr C to become a partner. He is up for it in a casual nonchalant way.
Later in the evening I am in the street outside the house and there is a rogue gunman on the loose. He is in a video store on a killing spree, with a gun, also threatening to kill himself. I don’t recognise him. He’s a blonde youth – Martin Bryant-like. I am talking to him, trying to persuade him to stop his mission but he is insistent. So I smother him in an attempt to reduce the impact and give people a chance to get away.
He keeps on shooting but not killing. A bloke near me gets it in the leg and I see blood ooze from a neat bullet hole. I also feel a stinging sensation somewhere in my leg.
Later there is a party, gathering at the house/garage where I wan to do the restaurant. T and some of her friends have taken an interest in remodelling the building. I have a plan though they have a different architect in mind (one of her friends) with a different point of view.
Later that evening there is a party. We are eating and playing some sort of card game.
