Another day, another dream

Had another curious dream last night, although it was neither as detailed nor as interesting as some of my previous ones (see this account, and this one as well).

In the dream, I was coming from tech services because I needed to reference a book for some dire, last-minute book cataloging (Author note: can you think of any situation in which cataloging a book could be a heroic act that could ultimately save the world, or at least the lives of a few people? I can't, but it's a dream so let's roll with it), so I burst through the door and onto the mezzanine, which happened to overlook the school cafeteria. Of course, the cafeteria didn't look like a school cafeteria; it probably more closely resembled the atrium of a very nice hotel, but full of round tables and fashionable chairs.

Standing between two columns toward the front of the cafet-atrium was a guy with a mic and a guitar, about to perform some kind of solo charity concert. He looked like your typical American male singer-songwriter sort - tall, slim, stylish not-too-long-but-not-too-short haircut, and a vague lost expression in his eyes that could either indicate artistic and emotional depth or perhaps a gnawing uncertainty about where he is.

I slip down the mezzanine stairs and grab a seat at the nearest free table I can find (after all, I have to blend in with the crowd for this mission...right?), and it just so happens that my supervisor is sitting at the same table, along with a co-worker from a previous job, and a young woman my boss and I both recognize as a member of a dastardly ring of international library thieves (rare book thieves think small. These people steal entire libraries. Carmen Sandiego style, I guess). The former co-worker and the I.L.T. appear to be together, an item, but I'm not fooled; one of them is playing the other in order to get what they want.

I point this out to my boss, using a secret language known only to catalogers and librarians - a secret language that is apparently very similar to English, if you forgot what most consonants sounded like, and were trying to speak it in whale song (AN: I wonder if I actually "said" anything or made noise during this conversation? My former roommate once told me that I sleep-talk sometimes, and I wonder what (if anything) I may have said out loud!). Or Welsh. Even though co-worker and I.L.T. can't hear us over the music (he's apparently very well mic'ed), and they wouldn't be able to understand us even if they could, they're starting to get visibly agitated and it seems clear they are about to make their move. I.L.T. unwraps her arms from around co-worker's shoulders and stands up (she'd been sitting on his lap), and he's about to do the same. I tense up, ready to tackle someone or make a mad dash for safety depending on what happens, and then my alarm wakes me up and I never learn the end of the dream.

Oh well...at least the build-up was exciting!