Dreamed we were all driving around looking for a Halloween store. We stopped in a parking lot in front of a restaurant. All these people—adults and children—came out of the restaurant dressed as cats. Their Halloween idea was a restaurant run by cats. There was a fog machine inside, and a weird ghostly light. I could see cat-shapes crawling all over the tables. It was just part of the show, though.
A car full of people pulled into the parking lot. It was James Bond's car. James Bond was being played by beloved English character actor Jim Broadbent. I remember thinking he was not a very good James Bond, because he would momentarily pass out after doing anything strenuous, and his entourage would have to catch him. He had some sort of projectile weapon which he aimed at the inside of the car window. When he fired it, it made a small, perfectly round hole in the glass. After he passed out and regained consciousness, he began pouring gasoline through the hole, down the side of the car, and onto the street. The gasoline spread across the parking lot into the restaurant. James Bond and his entourage got out of the car and began walking away. We followed them. James Bond lit a match and tossed it back over his shoulder. The car and the restaurant exploded in a huge fireball, killing all the adults and children inside.
I asked James Bond why he had to murder all those innocent people working in the restaurant, and he said it was the only way to keep "them" from following us. He wasn't clear about who "they" were, but he seemed very serious about it, so I decided to trust him.
Apparently, murdering all the cat-people wasn't enough, because "they" caught up with us anyways. We were on a train heading somewhere. Suddenly, other trains began catching up with us on either side. They were all black, with no windows. James Bond told the engineer to reverse the train immediately. We stopped, and then started going backwards, they way we had come. We seemed to be outrunning the black trains. Then, we came to the end of the line. There was a sofa tied to a metal post to provide cushioning in case we couldn't stop in time. It seemed like we were going to smash into the post, but when we actually did, it was just a gentle tap.
We looked around and realized it was too late. "They" had caught up to us. There were hundreds of "them," standing in silent regiments. "They" didn't move or make a sound. "They" wore long black or brown robes, with masks that looked like the one from Amadeus. Some of "them" had curled horns like rams' horns.
We didn't know what "they" were going to do to us. What "they" did was put us into some kind of dream where we were controlling the actions of a farmer who lived on a desolate plain. There were huge prehistoric boulders scattered across the landscape near the farmer's home. One day, out of nowhere, the Nazgûl witch-king appeared and began murdering the farmer's family in front of him. It took the farmer's wife and hurled her hundreds on feet into the air; we heard the sickening thud when she hit the ground somewhere nearby. The farmer had to give into some demand in order to save his children, but we didn't know what the demand was or how to give into it.
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