I fell asleep last night and dreamed the most fabulously complicated heist movie. Together with a couple of confederates, I had visited Russia in the Soviet era and begun to put into motion an unbelievably intricate and fragile plan to steal state secrets from KGB headquarters. (Under normal circumstances that'd have made it a spy movie, but for some reason my dream cortex decided to do it in heist-movie style instead.) There was a lot of stuff along the lines of making multiple visits to the HQ disguised as different workmen, and drilling holes in just the right places so that eventually there'd be a bunch of holes in walls lined up in a perfectly straight line reaching from a sensitive interior room to the outdoors.

The preparation stage had been going on for hours of dream-time and was nearly finished … when, to my utter frustration, I woke up, and was unable to resume the dream when I went back to sleep. Arrgh! I really wanted to know what those lined-up holes (and all the other similarly complex bits and pieces) were going to be used for. Now I feel as if I wasted all that time.