I'm having that dream again...

...you know, the one where I'm covering the press conference and the room goes weird? Normally, I wake up as soon as the speaker's eyeballs start sliding down his face, but the other night the vision persisted...

There I am, happily half-conscious when the dolt at the podium starts speaking in gibberish. At first I'm confused, but then simply riveted as the monotone wonk sorta morphs into the lead Nazi from Raiders of the Lost Ark. Well, hey, I've seen that flick enough to know what's comin', so I block the shot of the nearest photog and scream, "Don't look, Marion! Shield your eyes!" Well, THAT doesn't even fly in dreamland so the photog - a guy I've chatted up at a half dozen structure fires but still can't name - throws an elbow of his own and before you know it we're grappling on the floor like a two A/V geeks fighting over whose turn it is to thread the filmstrip. About that time Himler's chin begins to drip, which is when I usually snap awake with the cat in my face, but this time I shake off my attacker, grab my camera and rise to my knees, lens cocked, loaded and ready to roll. There time stands still as I fight to catch my breath, knowing only that if God's about to strike down the Third Reich - or even that guy who was going over the city's new recycling plan - I'm damn sure gonna get the shot...

But what does it all MEAN? Am I projecting my inner sense of cinema on the most mundane facet of my day? Am I secretly wishing that something - anything - spectacular happen at these notoriously time-wasting events? Or could it be The Big Guy is finally about to smite yours truly for attending more pressers than church services? Naaaaah, it's probably just something I ate...