We're in a normal, residential neighborhood. Two young, white men are engaged in the illicit drug trade. How do we know? We just do, this is a dream. One guy is in the house, we only see him for a second, just long enough to know he is a little agitated. The other guy is in the back of his pickup truck that is parked by the curb. He is crouched down behind a German Shepard who is growling fiercely like he wants to kill someone. He is growling, but he isn't moving. We don't see how he is restrained, he might just be well trained and simply waiting for a command. The two guys are talking on the phone, the guy in the truck implying that the guy in the house has screwed up and he is going to send his dog to correct the situation. Evidently house guy offers an acceptable explanation and everyone calms down.
Now truck guy is crouched down in the street next to the curb. He is holding a black, die cast replica of a Chevrolet Camaro. The grill is perforated like a sprinkler and he is spraying water, like you would from a watering can, on some kind of iron plate set into the ground, like the cover over a city water meter or something. I suspect he is getting rid of some drugs. He dumped them in the Camaro, filled it with water, and is now spraying the water on this patch of ground.
A policeman suddenly looms over him like they do in crime dramas on TV. We can't tell what he looks like because his face is shadowed by his Smokey the Bear hat. We can't even tell what race he is. He's a copper and that's all we need to know. Anyway, he asks our guy to open the garage door. Our guy tells him that he can't do that. 'Why not?' asks the cop. 'It's not my house.' says our guy. Then our guy brings up the constitution and the cop tells him he's not going to worry about the constitution over an issue of 'disturbing the peace', and our guy relaxes because it seems that he is not going to be going to jail today.
Then I woke up.
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