Diane and Daniel Levy go on vacation, leaving me with a baby in a backpack

Always the bridesmaid, never the bride, I thought to myself. 

I was in a hotel room with my friend Diane and Daniel Levy. He was in character as David, from Schitt's Creek. Diane was playing the part of, well, Diane--duh. We were all going to watch a movie on Diane's phone, which she'd positioned on the dresser so it would project up onto the ceiling. 

I had been entrusted with a backpack earlier in the dream, which I found contained an infant. He was a cute little bugger, all cocooned in there with just his tiny face sticking out, eyes still closed like a baby kitten. I was a bit worried that I might have inadvertently crushed him during the time when I was unaware of the backpack's contents.

True to my typical Charlie Brown dream protocols, Diane and Daniel left me in the hotel room and went off on a journey together. They were going to share a bed at some other hotel room and watch movies, leaving me with the baby. I was a bit jealous of the arrangement, wishing it could have been me and Diane and Daniel and the baby.

While I was moping in the hotel room, I got a call on the hotel's cordless phone. It was Diane. She was watching another movie with Daniel but wanted to give me the play by play. How nice, I thought. I was going to get a second-hand movie narration, while her and Daniel did the snuggling and popcorn part.

In the course of watching the movie, it began to dawn on Diane that she, Daniel and myself were being used as a part of some international cartel's smuggling operation. She said it was always the ones who were the least aware that made the best mules. To prove her case she reminded me of the time she was somehow paired with the unlikely partner Junior Vasquez, an oafish, bumbly mechanic I'd worked with at Honda. 

"He was meticulous with those nuts and bolts, as you know," she reminded me. 

It was true. Junior had always laid out the disassembled parts from his timing belt jobs with OCD ritual precision, making certain that they were arranged just so in his magnet tray. He took great pains to make sure that no one upset their perfect configuration. Diane pointed out that this quality, along with his otherwise generally low level of awareness, made him the ideal candidate for being an unwitting contraband smuggler.

Somehow, this all related to our time in the cult, where we were all similarly unaware of the goings on among the higher ups in the organization. Even then, Diane concluded, we'd been but pawns in an operation with some kind of international criminal ties. As long as we were all being put up in hotel rooms, watching movies and being entertained, it was assumed that we would just be grateful and not ask too many questions.

That's all for now. I awoke with a crick in my neck from sleeping on the couch again. One of the last thoughts in my dream was, "Crikey," which I uttered with Steve Irwin's aussie inflection.