The first image I remember is these sinister guys with lightsabers, who are marching people around like some sort of police state, with everything being red and orange. Then I realize it's footage from a new Star Wars movie, in which the Jedi have been corrupted and use their force powers to tyrannically rule the galaxy.
Then there's Sir Alec Guinness and a character actor whose name I'll never be able to find, but he looks sort of like Michael York. (Hmm ... actually, I think he may have been a villain on Columbo. No, not Richard Basehart ... it might have been Laurence Harvey. I'm not sure.)
Anyway, Not Michael York and Alec Guiness are sort of sitting around chewing the fat, and Not Michael York is telling Alec Guiness that he has to do some kind of promotion "downtown" today (Not Michael York was also connected with Star Wars), because "A new edition is being released with piano music for a soundtrack or something."
Alec Guiness (who, when he was alive, was less-than-sanguine about his connection with Star Wars), makes some kind of snide remarks about the obscene amount of money this is likely to make George Lucas, adding, "I've been able to play the piano for fifteen years, but you don't see them clamoring for me, do you? Do you play?"
"Well, I can, actually," says Not Michael York, "but it always makes me sad."
"Beautiful," says Alec Guiness. "What a lovely answer. I love it when things make you sad, because you at least know it's true."
At this point, the sirens that have been going by outside (and been interpreted by my sleeping brain as lightsaber noises) have reached such a feverish pitch that my brain can't ignore them any more, and instead interprets them as a pack of howling dogs.
"Do you hear that?" Alec Guiness says, referring to the pack of howling dogs. "Now that's good music. George ought to put that on his soundtrack." My brain suddenly registers the thought, Wait a minute, Alec Guiness has been dead for years! This finally wakes me up, to a horrendous loud chorus of sirens that just keep going and going and going.
Now I'm awake, I'm grouchy, and it's oh-dark-thirty. Crap. If this was going to happen, it could at least have happened an hour or two ago, so I might have had a chance to catch Vince online. But no such luck.
At least the sirens have stopped. Now that I've written this down and gotten it out of my head, maybe I'll be able to go back to sleep.