I had a dream last night that was very detailed and vivid and real but also about me and about real life and that was a bit weird. I dreamed that I was coming home from Whiskey Monday, which is what I had been doing, and I know that in the dream, I was carrying the same purse and had the same wallet I carry in real life, although the scene took place in the 23rd Street subway station, as opposed to the City Hall subway station where I would have been getting on the train. And yes, I recognized the subway station and it was pretty accurate for a dream.
Anyway, I was in the station but hadn't quite gone through the turnstile yet. I had my wallet out, and was getting out my Metrocard. I had about 50 dollars in my wallet: one twenty, two tens, one five, and a bunch of singles.
Another man came down into the station, and he was very poorly dressed and dirty. He did have a coat and a hat. Anyway, he started ranting crazily about Occupy Wall Street and how he is one of the 99%. He announced that he was homeless and then he pulled a gun and pointed it at me. He said something about how wouldn't I like to donate to a good cause instead of putting my money in a bank that was trying to break the backs of ordinary Americans. Then he starts moving the gun between me and the guy who is down there, who was a middle-aged man in a very expensive-looking houndstooth suit with a nice coat and leather gloves.
I had my wallet out already, and I did what I had always been taught to do (not that I have ever been hugged at gunpoint in real life), and I pulled out most-- but not all-- of the money in the wallet. I left the $20 in while I gave him everything else. I remember thinking to myself that it was too bad I paid for my food at Whiskey Monday on my credit card, and then remembering with some relief that I had paid with cash. (In real life, in the real world, I had paid for my beers last night with cash).
But at this point, the train pulls up, and a few (not a lot, but four or five) people get off the train, and come through the turnstile, as people do, and now dude is holding everyone hostage and demanding that they empty their wallets.
Meanwhile, I try to take the $20 out of my wallet without him seeing, because he's looking at some of the other people there, but instead, I drop it on the floor, and he turns and points the gun back at me again, pointing it at me while he demands that I hand over the $20, which I do. Then he snatches me and takes me hostage, pointing the gun at me while he collects the money from the other people.
But then he gets to this young, skinny hipster-looking guy, and the hipster guy reaches into his mail bag and instead of pulling out money, he pulls out this incredibly beautiful, period-looking gun with a mother of pearl handle, and points it at the mugger's head, telling him to let me go.
The mugger let me go, and when he did, I, perhaps without the best judgment in mind, knock the gun out of his hand. It goes off, hitting the ceiling, and sends crumbly plaster raining down, while I run for the stairs.
But while everyone is distracted by the gunshot, and the gun skitters to the floor, the mugger pulls out a HUGE FUCKING KNIFE. Like, more the kind of knife you expect to see used in ancient sacrificial rituals than on a mugger in New York City, and he goes at the hipster dude with the knife, which is when it becomes obvious that the hipster guy's gun is either not loaded or just a prop.
But by this time, there's pretty much a group of people, who, though unarmed, well outnumber the mugger, so between the six or seven people there, we overwhelm him, and then we have to go to the police station to fill out police reports.
At the police station, I end up sitting next to hipster dude, who, it turns out, is a photojournalist and takes photos for The Daily News. So we chat a bit about journalism while we're sitting waiting for police officers to take our statements and he talks something about the business side of things and an investment structure that he thinks will be helpful for the declining newspaper industry, which I didn't quite follow, and then I woke up.