I had the unusual experience meeting someone who looked like David Duchovny (who was very drunk) during the end of some kind of event. We were just outside the exit gates, and most of the crowd had dispersed. He thought he recognized me, but I figured he actually didn't but had just drank too much.
me: "We've met before, I used to go to the X-files meetups, events, and shows in downtown LA."
david: "Oh, so you got to see me practicing some of my lines before the show? Ha--well you're in on the secret of how much I can't act, and it's all editing."
Though I lived in Los Angeles for 5 years, I've never been to any X-files anything there. I have no idea why what I was talking about seemed to make sense in the dream.
I told him he seemed like he could use some water, and he agreed...so I went back in through one of the exit gates we had walked out of to try and find some. There were refrigerators with a few bottles of water in them, and I had gathered that the water had been free during the event. So I tried to grab one but the door was blocked from opening (by a ladder or something up against it).
guard: "Hey, the refrigerators aren't to be opened."
me: "Well can I just get a water for someone who drank too much?"
me: "Well then, what about a cup and some water?"
Wandering on to find a cup, the next thing I knew I was in a place that seemed like it was supposed to be a club or party going on...but it was brightly lit. There were several elevated stages around the edge of the room with people dancing on them, one of whom was the "David Duchovny" I'd met earlier.
I noticed that people seemed to be panicked at my presence, and they started running around to each other, pulling out pieces of paper and comparing notes with each other. No one would talk to me, and it was an eerie experience. I could hear their conversations, which seemed to be a mad rush to try and sort out "what-actually-happened" in various interpersonal circumstances.
Nothing seemed particularly relevant to my waking life, in that I couldn't interpret them as talking about me or anyone I knew.
A youngish black woman was standing alone and was the only one to approach me with some paper.
woman: "Would you look over this?"
me: "Could we not look at paper? Could we maybe...take a walk outside of this room?"
woman: (smiling) "Okay."
We left the room and entered a hallway of what seemed to be a mall or business complex.
me: "Thanks. It just gets eerie when people start acting robotically and automaton-like, and it's nice to find someone who doesn't seem to have a single response to a situation. But I guess I'm curious what's on the paper, so lemme look."
She showed me the paper and it was a long list of perforated things that looked like it was supposed to be paper out of a machine that generated tickets. But instead of ticket information it had been re-purposed to hold addresses. Another man joined us and looked at the numbers, and I intuited they were trying to figure out the actual address I had lived at in LA.
me: "Jeez...these numbers...well, this one here is the closest to right. Sorry I'm drawing a blank, I haven't lived there for two years."
I tried a few attempts to remember that address (which the man didn't seem to think were correct) before my brain clicked on and I summoned the right one.
man: "If you're sure, that's consistent with what we know. Now the question is, which husband do I ask for?"
me: "I don't understand what you mean."
man: "What's happening is someone is claiming marriage rights, but when we bring legal notice and serve the door with the police then we have to ask for the right name."
While I can speculate about what sorts of things this might mean, I really have no clue.
The dream scene changed to where we were looking at a closed office. It had a blue logo reminiscent of "American Express" but instead advertised "Fidelity Investments".
man: "This is the place, we're sure of it. Specifically targets military family accounts."
me: "Ahhh...right. Yes, yes."
Don't know why I was agreeing, but as I looked at it something struck me about it as inauthentic, and it wasn't just the blue logo instead of Fidelity's green.
The scene changed to a very similar office-front, although I had the feeling it was a different instance of the office. It listed "David Hasselhoff" on the door as the branch manager. We could see a guy who looked like David Hasselhoff at a desk, but I snuck to sit on a bench before he could see me.
me: "Okay, but here's something for us to test. What happens when we search on that?"
I pulled out my phone and searched for "fidelity investments david hasselhoff military". As soon as I pressed the search key I could hear a complex cell phone beeping pattern go off from inside the office.
me: "Yup he has an alert set up, and probably a location scan. So I guess we'll be having a meeting now."
The office door opened, and "David Hasselhoff" stepped outside, and looked at us.
me: "Mind if we come in?"
We wandered in, and the office was fairly well-decorated, but beyond the facade of the desk at the entrance it looked more like some kind of cooking school. A blank white wall shielded the outside from seeing some nice bookshelves and the various stations, which had granite counter tops and were fairly roomy.
me: "I don't know if you'd call me precisely 'military', but I'd certainly like to see my investments paying off better. Then again...wouldn't anyone?"
the hoff: "Enough. You figured it out. So what do you want, exactly?"
me: "I'm not here to pick a fight with you, or the Russian Mafia, or anyone else. Waste of my time, and I've actually come to hate humans for the most part anyway."
the hoff: (surprised) "Oh? Why's that?"
I detailed some of the reasons I hated humans, and he was semi-empathetic. We split some sort of rice-sauce dish as we talked, and our conversation was interrupted when a young girl came up from behind me and asked for half of my portion. I got up and left it for her, but when I got up two men immediately sat down to take the places across the desk.
These two new men identified themselves by names, one of which I remembered as "Agent Kitt" (a reference to the car in Knight Rider). In addition to their appearance, there was a young boy identified as "Jack"--who despite being very young appeared to be intoxicated and staggering around. There was also a photographer and someone recording the conversation.
interviewer: "So Jack, who did you like having sex with the most?"
jack: (laughing drunkenly) "Hard to say, there were SOOO many."
I got the feeling that he was lying, and was acting...because he considered these people his friends and was saying what they wanted to get on tape.
interviewer: "We're going to take these pictures of you drunk, and then on the kitchen counter. Then we'll put pictures of meat in the same folder and they'll think it's Jack meat. It's a trick, but it will scare them a lot. Understand?"
jack: (gleefully) "Yes!"
While listening I had been looking more at the details of the office. There was a waiting area and a table that had colorful books underneath it. I noticed a fair amount of coordination in the choice of the book covers and the wallpaper in that area. When the interview was over, "Jack" walked up to me and gloated about how many beers he'd had, and that he'd been drinking ever since he was born.
He couldn't remember his age--or pretended not to--but asked if he was 13 yet.
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