Ok, usually my dreams are of the very straightforward, "here is your archetype, here is your basic dream symbolism, go fix whatever is digging at your brain."
Last night, not so much. It was set in... San Diego, maybe? The Leverage team was in it, so were a number of (now unrecalled) SoCal genrefolk. We were in a diner, and then everyone left, but someone came back to our table and stated poking around to see if we'd left anything behind, and then we were chasing after that someone (or someone else, that bit is hazy)....
The object d'chase went into an underground arcade whose escalators led into smaller an smaller tunnels, and I had claustrophobia*, so I had to find a way around when the team went into one. A stranger in the arcade pointed me to a maze of stairs and said I could connect with them at a certain place at the end of the tunnel. But that was all the direction I got, and there were a lot of exits on different levels, all with different signs (like those "downtown layout" signs showing you where the major attractions are, only these were clear plastic, and there were a lot of them - ok, more like what you'd see at an outlet mall, telling you where stores are. Except, like I said, clear and set high overhead). But I got out, eventually.
I ended up first passing through a playground and having to duck under a "end quiet zone" sign/gate and then down into the city proper, wandering around a small, slightly European-looking city In the middle of the night. It was mostly asleep, but set up for a rambling kind of carnival/street fair, and I knew that I was completely fucked in terms of finding the team again. Most of the dream, in fact, took place as I was wandering.
I finally met up with the rest of the team at a random-but-planned keyboard store that I'd been told about about when I was directed to the surface route but to the best of my knowledge, they hadn't. And yet, they were waiting for me, there.
And that, far as I remember, is when I woke up.
WTF, brain? That is neither a useful archetypal kick-in-the-ass, nor a coherent (or even surreal) plot.
- My subconscious is such a lousy plotter...