I had a nightmare last night. In the dream I was the son of some kind of Washington DC defense contractor who helped run the defenses of the country or of major cities. I was on a plane, and the plane was made to crash. Rather unpredictably, I survived, but the plane crash had been used to create chaos in a city, and this chaos was partly intended to serve as cover for my abduction. A troup of athletic anarchists found me up against a fence amid the wreckage and took me prisoner, recorded a short film of me on their iPhone to prove they had me, and sent it to my father to force him to deactivate some protections. Somewhere along the lines here a nuclear bomb went off, and I was partially blinded (the top half of my vision), and I was still dazed from the plane crash as well. This plot must have reminded me of the pilot episode of Battlestar Galactica because soon after the nuke went off near the city (either a small nuke or far from the city I guess, really), the plot changed slightly and the athletic anarchists were human-like robots. By atheletic, I mean that when they deployed they actually rolled out of a moving truck or loading dock (and only one broke her back doing this). The robots, having achieved the anarchy they wanted, riots in the streets, were seriously considering killing me, and they moved in on me with razor blades and scalpels in their hands. I told them there were at least two other ways I’d rather die and they paused briefly before arguing amongst themselves that it would be quicker to just kill me as planned. I tried beating them up but they were robots and didn’t really care. Then I dreamed I was in a school when the nuke hit and was again very dazed. And to complete the nightmare, a car mechanic gave me an inflated quote for repairing my car’s air vent. I called him a liar and he threatened to beat me. Also, in this dream-future, Paris Hilton had become a respected actor by crossdressing and portraying a man.