I don’t remember all of it, but this is what I can. That’s what I get for waiting so long to write it down.
Didn’t go to bed till around 3 am. Don’t remember how it started off, but I’m in a major airport looking for the gift shop with a massive backpack on. The gift shop turns out to be damn near the size of a Wal-Mart with everything you could think of. I catch myself looking for cameras and realizing how easy this place would be to steal from. I must have been headed back home because I find myself at my parents house. Earlier in the day my mother and I had a conversation about the separation between Christianity and the Metaphysical and I remember feeling like she was being hypocritical in the dream because I found a bunch of crystals in her room. I remember being excited about taking them. Was I stealing them, or was I cleaning out the house for some reason?
About this time, around 530 am, one of my daughters woke up and informed me that my cat was giving birth.
After falling back out, I guess my wife was watching some detective Hollywood drama or something to that effect because that theme bled over into my dream. I’m at a mall, leaving a bookstore as a detective hired to find an actress who had walked off the set of Doctor Who. But I wasn’t a detective; I was an actor. I found the actress quickly and brought her back to the bookstore. I was dressed as an FBI agent so I escorted her through the mall holding her hands like handcuffs and making her walk in a stress position. When we entered the bookstore she stood up and I stood behind her with my arms around her like she was an old friend while we waited for the man himself, the Twelfth Doctor. He acknowledged us and she ran over to see him. I went behind the counter and began to play on my phone. A hand was rested on my shoulder and thick, scottish accent addressed me by name. I looked up and tried not to go all fan-boy as the 12th doctor stares down at me. He asks if I have a calculator on my phone and I assure him that I do. He asks if I can do some figuring up for him based on something to do with writing. He glances at my phone and asks if I like the brand, and for some reason I actually start giving him my opinion. Rambling. I log on to the computer next to me and explain that I’m going to need a bigger screen. I print out the figures for him and it comes out quickly on receipt paper that pops out and hits me in the face. I hand him the receipt and he looks it over. I ask him if this is the next step for him (he’s leaving the show) and he confirms that he’s considering becoming a murder-mystery writer and I wish him luck.
I was awoken because the baby turned the vacuum on, apparently I was allowed to sleep in a little bit.