strange early morning dreams

last night i dreamt a comic book. or was it animation?
a young shostakovich is suspected of being a dissident in an america where everything european is under surveillance. strangely he looks like me. in a car on a main street that looks like baltimore the twelve year old is huddled in the front seat of a black hooded car with many other older refugees. another replica of the car follows them inches behind at high speed. to escape shostakovich suggests a quick turn around. as the car swerves the following car also turns but it only manages a 180 degree turn which our hero is again heading in the current direction.
as the following car begins to rain bullets the suspects jump out of the car and being to race through what looks like the back alleys of greenbelt, maryland. the rubber-stamp housing colony to the outskirts of the city is where the action continues which he enters thorugh a tiny back alley that is revealed in between the relentless facades of the townhouses. choosing the lush green backyards away from the main road our hero runs past lounging black men (all of whom appear bald) into the darkened stairway of one. a family asks for an address to one of the men lounging on the stairs. 4th floor ‘kasuba’ he says. ‘kasuba?’ says the elegant black lady asking the directions. ‘refugees’ says the black man. ‘uff’.
another man stands overlooking a way out of the stairway prison. he turns out to be the man who has given out the location of the hiding refugees and received pardon from the state. other loungers dismiss him as a traitor. i sneak out of the back stair and he sees me- so does the elegant black woman. as i run out the woman points me out to my pursuant.
now i race through fancier streets. it all looks like a manhattan dream. glittering shop windows (an in my head paul simon mis-sings ‘the boy in the bubble’ : “glittering of shop windows, the boy in the baby carriage was wired to the radio”. or as the chase continues i think – this is a good idea for a city film. a chase through the various classes and districts of the city.
the last scene i remember before it dissolved into an animation montage of different styles floating on a black screen was: i suddenly see something in a shop window. cut to the glittering thing handing in soft focus in the foreground as i run towards it. shift focus to the entangled strands of silver as i grin in soft focus leeringly at the jewelry.
another unreported dream was when me, my mother and my father are sitting in front of the television as britney spears dances gyrating while wearing prosthetic male genitalia as i try and convince myself (and my parents) that it is some form of protest towards artistic self expression and protection of her privacy. huh?