The American Dream

I had a dream.

I was in America (I live in Sweden) and walking on a town square, I met two bag robbers. I had a baby carriage with my two guitars and my bag in it. While one of the bag robbers talked to me, the other tried to steal my things. Since I understood he was a bag robber, I shielded them all – but forgot one of the guitars (my favorite). He ran away with the guitar, and when I ran after him, the other guy stole my other things. For some reason, I suddenly had the stolen guitar in my hands (don’t know how), and ran away to the edge of the square. There, I met a girl who I asked to call 911 while I ran towards my stuff to get them back. When I was standing by them, I realised that I was surrounded by maffia guys, all of them holding guns aiming eachother. I had to duck to avoid the bullets, but then someone screamed ”Hey, let’s take him instead!” and all of them shot at me. I ran away on the same time as the police came, and while the others were hunting the criminals, I told one of the polices, ”It’s obvious that I’m in America, no-one would ever shoot a friend in Sweden.”

I’m weird.

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