Dream #6 10 Feb 2009

So it snowed a lot recently. I've enjoyed it immensely as it's allowed me to get up late and blame the snow, and also just plain old not get up at all. Many people seem angry about the whole scenario, but in a year's time, no one is going to give a shit, so I'm enjoying it.

I've had several dreams of late. Some are obvious, others are puzzling.

I parked up in Dunstable and walked to a pub. I stood at the bar and found my cousin Terry stood at my side to my right. I greeted him and was incredibly pleased to see him. He aknowledged my greetings, but overall seemed distant. I ordered myself a pint.
I then noticed my uncle Martin, Terry's father, whom I have not seen since I was a small child, was stood to my left. I greeted him with equal warmth, and continued to wait for my pint to arrive. I noticed he was now shorter than me, and his hair was going grey, but still cropped short in a Teddyboy fashion, which is probably accurate.
I felt something move in my left pocket, next to my phone. I looked down and Martin's hand was in my pocket, trying to take my phone. Rage overwhelmed me as I siezed his wrist with my fist and spat out the words "get your fucking hand out of my pocket"
Martin tried to shrug off my fury with a few laughs and some jokey comments, but this just made me worse. I have never been so seething with filthy rage in all my life. He began back-pedalling and explained at first that his hand had slipped into my pocked by mistake, but then admitting I had caught him red handed and offering a light apology, with a bit of a jovial shrug.
I hissed at him through my teeth to never approach me again, and I left the pub. I walked the streets of Dunstable in search of my car, and soon decided to give my uncle and cousin a second chance by returning to the pub.
I ordered a lager, unusual for me. I believe it was a Cobra. I went and stood in the corner where they now were and began talking to Terry. I don't recall a single thing that was said, but instead remained fully aware that my wallet was in my back pocket and that Martin was not so subtly manoevering himself behind me, in line with my back pocket. After a few minutes of this, I slammed my undrunk pint down announcing dissmisively that he should finish it as I was no longer thirsty.
I then left for certain and began searching for my car.
What followed was a group search for a car between myself and a small group of friends, but instead finding a colony of rare Japanese butterflies before hidind from mysterious assassins, also in search of our car.