The Running Man

I must say that the second most-common dream that I have, after ones about school (being unprepared, being left behind), are ones about being chased. The characters and incidents are very disparate, but they usually involve someone trying to hurt me. Last night was no exception. I was a big-time researcher doctor at some university, and my partner bore a striking resemblence to Henry Kissinger. For reasons unknown, our funding was going to fall through, taking our lucrative, accomplished lives with it. Similarly, for some reason, Dr. Kissinger thought it would be a wise idea to give me a lobotomy with local anesthesia in his office with a few of his students serving as nurses. I managed to escape before the operation was complete, although I did have a bleeding incision in my forehead. (I don't know why he didn't just stick a pair of scissors up my nose, but hey, that would ruin the drama.) Dr Kissinger followed me. We ran through crowded university corridors. I even got to my office and tried to hold the door shut as he barraged in. I managed to foil him that time as well, making my way to the main floor of the university, where there also happened to be a high-end car dealership. I told the salesman to put the sale of an old, fatigue-green mustang convertible on my account, although I knew by the end of the day my account and my career would be ruined. When he told me they would ship the car to me and that I couldn't drive it off the showroom, I was devastated. I found my university assistant and asked her whether I could borrow her car. How about I drive you where you need to go? She suggested, and we slipped down to the parking lot to get into her ancient Toyota Supra. I climbed into the back seat and hoped that Dr. Kissinger hadn't seen him leave. WTF?