(This dream was dated 5/3/2002.) I am in a theater before a show. I sit by a guy who flashes a black BB pistol and then another silver one. He fiddles with it and points it at me. It goes off and a BB whizzes through my hair. I disarm him and tell him he can get his guns from the ticket counter after the show. I press my forehead hard against his and I tell him someone, like me, is going to want to kill him someday.
Cuba Gooding Jr. lifts up a rectangular sheet of fake water and kicks it in anger.