Anyhoo (yes "anyway" was already taken).

A dream: I was walking past the council-only rubble car park which used to be a cheap but good garage before it was evicted by the council and the abandoned site squatted by a cheap but good garden centre (um, this bit's reality, except for the walking past recently thing), with a straggling group of as yet unidentified friends who were all talking to other people who were clearly going to the same place, up towards the police station (the pavement, part of Tweeton's 'key site' [so key the council trashed it, and wanted a tower block on it, simply to fund their underground car park, and then found themselves facing the Audit Commission, and Private Eye, over some of their undeclared conflicts of interest. It remains trashed and littered with council employee cars], has never seen so much pedestrian traffic; the inner bypass road next to it was about 4 am empty, although it was a greyish dusk), and therefore we were allowed to talk to the strangers, and then we're there, indoors, lying down, side on to the not much of a stage, watching Lady Gaga sing Halo (in a manner, and voice, somewhat, as in very, akin to The Gadsdens' version, who incidentally I saw on Thursday at St Pancreas Intracostal, which at least explains the appearance of the not exactly revolutionary, convincing blonde, in a could have been Garbage way), when I notice there's a £15 lying on my chest, which I pick up, then there's a noise from the girl next door, who then pulls the money from my hand, saying it's like taking candy from a baby, so I snatch it back, and she says something antagnostically patronising (dreaming the intent of a sentence, but not the words? Um ok), so I say "Oh sod you" and turn back to the singer, who is to our right, as all Americans tend to be, who has stopped singing and is telling us to all live in peace and harmony, or some such bollocks, before then announcing she'll call the police on me, and telling me I have bad karma, then pointing me out before the crowd as ugly-hearted and I ought to be locked away, which I try pointing out is prejudicing people, and she's not normally a fan of that, but she's too egotistical to listen or thick to get it were she doing so, and then I'm trying to work out what to say to the police, to explain that the money was mine, although I'm trying to remember why it wasn't in my wallet, which I think was because my landlord wanted change for a twenty, but I only had fifteen, but someone else had something else and then it got to one of those convoluted resolutions where four people owe each other varying amounts of money, so I switched off while that was going on, leaving the money out and forgetting about it, and then I was trying to work out why there was a ten, a twenty and a five left when I had two twenties earlier, and how I'd explain that to the police, as I couldn't remember what I'd spent it on, although I knew what I could explain spending it on and why one wouldn't bother with the receipt for that amount, and so why I couldn't show them one to demonstrate that the money must be mine, and then I woke up.

Anyhoo.