Pointing at him (a #dream)

Going through old notes, I found this dream I apparently had, back in 2011:

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'Don't be afraid and just come along. How about we make a deal: if you don't like it, you can just leave.'

The young man allowed himself to be carried away and was admitted through a low hatch in the side of the building via a steep slide that ended at a few old pale green cushions that just did not sufficiently break his fall.

As he slowly stood up and rubbed his aching tailbone, he saw small dining tables all around him, like the round two-person tables in a romantic restaurant. Each table was neatly set with bright white damask, silver cutlery and a red rose in a tall silver glass vase that seemed ready to fall over at any moment. At each table sat a man and a woman, dressed as if they were going to watch the ballet after dinner.

The dozens of tables in the dimly lit basement were so close together that it was a good thing that the traditionally dressed waitress was quite thin. But she still sometimes had to struggle to squeeze between two tables to take an order.

Above his head he heard a cruel female voice say: 'I like the way number six is ​​conditioned but what should we do with him?'

When he looked up he saw the woman pointing at him.

The Wig (a #dream)

 It was the seventies and the seventies were in the future.

A powerful device was invented and two competing companies wanted it. 

One of them was owned by an alien. The name of the company was something like Evencalibur. 

The inventor wanted to sell them his or her patent but was too eager therefore selling it for too little.

Which made the new owner laugh about it to his assistant who was dressed in white and and looked very much like the partner of his competitor who was dressed in black.

The patent was stored in an old folder which contained dozens of notes and other papers. All signed at the bottom left corner with the date top right in pencil.

He knew he was lucky to have it on paper because all electronic files were lost. When he took it out to have it signed by himself and his assistant and have both their picture taken as evidence that the patent was now his, she tried to kill him. Or was it the wife of his competitor? Anyhow, he was lying on his back when he managed to get hold of a knife and lunged it over his left shoulder, stabbing her in the chest. 

Trying to say something she fell to the floor and he used the invention on himself, getting ready for a press conference. Looking in the mirror he got stared at by a younger version of himself and ran to his study where there was a child who was also his brother/friend/business partner and who told him: "That is the wig my father gave me!"