I was sitting in a restaurant, and there were two people at the table with me. One was my girl (played in the dream by multi_jinx) and the other was a friend (unknown actor, a well-dressed black gentleman). The restaurant was next to a club of some sort, and from our table, we could see various garishly and outlandishly dressed people. It was as if the two establishments were at least partially joined, because I could see a scene play out where some guy went up to these two identically-dressed Japanese girls (silver outfits, tall boots) called the Mimosa Girls, whose only difference was their hair color. He tried to talk to them, and in a fairly haughty manner, rattled off some line that you just KNOW they had memorized for such an occasion, shutting him down. They were then called on stage at the club, where they were their normal happy selves. I suppose they were some kind of celebrity (or felt like they were).
Anyway, it seems I was some kind of animation artist, and my stuff was showing at this club. Someone else that I knew (agent? manager?) walked outside with a tall Asian man, the implication being that he'd handle talking to the man and be right back. Meanwhile, we ordered food and brought out several d10's (either to help decide something or to mark something, I'm not sure). As we figured out what we wanted and ordered, I looked up and saw the agent/manager waving me out the door. Excusing myself, I walked out to a covered patio where he introduced me to the Asian guy, who had a tape recorder and wanted to interview me.
It had been raining, and was still wet, and we had a moment of trouble finding a spot to put the recorder, but eventually he started asking me about my work. I remember not taking myself too seriously, saying that I was just happy to do something I enjoyed, and if other people enjoyed seeing it, well, that was a bonus. He asked what I was planning on doing next, and I flippantly answered that I'd probably do the dishes. The conversation gets a little hazy, but I jokingly made a reference to "the Gestapo" ( I think it was something about art critics, not sure now), when we saw grey personnel carrier-type vehicles pull up. I laughed and said "wow, speaking of the Gestapo!" and the interviewer turned off there recording and said "you have ID, right?" and got very serious. I sat there, and black-clad soldiers started running around. A gaunt Chinese man in a black leather trenchcoat came up to us and asked for ID. At first, I couldn't find mine, I just had something like a store credit card, which was not good enough. As he turned to call for one of the soldiers, I found my license, and handed it over. He held it up and called to one of the vehicles behind us if they needed (*rattled off my ID number here). The answer seemed to imply "leave that guy alone" because he became very nice, gave my ID back, told me I could go, made the soldiers get out of my way. I shrugged my shoulders, grabbed what seemed like my bathrobe, and walked down the stairs back into the restaurant. There were plenty of others, but I seemed to have some status that I didn't understand.
Back inside, I returned to my table. Plenty of people seemed to be missing, but as I wondered what was happening, I saw most of them return. I could not help but notice that quite a few were now smiling inordinately large and dark smiles and wearing some t-shirt (identical) instead of whatever they were wearing before. A couple of them, I could overhear them, and I just KNEW something was different about them. I remember muttering to my girl, under my breath, that they were 'stooges'. A woman I knew came in, and she'd obviously been beaten. She was keeping it together, but she was pretty emotional. She hugged me and didn't want to talk about it. Someone else I knew, a man (who looked a lot like Meat Loaf, oddly enough), also came back to the table next to ours, and when I asked him how he was, he said he was fine but moved the collar of his shirt over to show the bruises and wounds. For some reason, I choked up at this and let out a soft cry, but we kept it down.
I sat back down at my table and looked around, trying to make sense of what was happening. When I turned back, my girl was arguing with someone at another table. No idea what it was about, but it was getting a bit heated, and I caught the eye of someone in a headset that must have been the maitre d' who mouthed "Keep her quiet, Frank." I leaned over to her, my hands on her arms, and whispered that I understood that she was upset, that I loved her, and that I didn't want her to take this badly, but that I needed for her to shut the fuck up. She started to protest but seemed to get the idea that this was bigger than she thought and that I wouldn't have said that if it wasn't important. I said I'd explain later.
When I sat back up, our check had arrived and we started to figure out who had what. The check went on for three or four pages, way more food than we'd had, obviously. It was insane, and so I caught the manager's attention. As he walked up, I stood up to talk to him, saying there was a problem, and we wanted to work it out. He looked at the check, looked at me with a worried expression, and pulled out two thick wads of cash from his pocket. I asked him what he was doing, and he replied that he was paying our bill. I tried to tell him that I wasn't asking for that, just that we didn't want to pay for food we didn't order, but he insisted. I gave him a good natured hug (I seemed to at least know him a little), and in a lower voice, mention that I might be back tomorrow, maybe with friends, maybe alone (stressed the 'alone'), maybe just to talk. "I'd like to just talk," I said, staring at him for emphasis. He straightened his tie, smiled grimly, and nodded.
Then I woke up.