The dream took place in New York City, even though I have no working knowledge of the city.

The main character and narrator was Joe Pesci.

Joe was taking a stroll down the streets of New York City.

"I was on my way to the city's downtown fair", he narrated, "Behind me were three yo-yos who seemed to have some sort of grudge against me. I got myself an ice cream on my way there."

A single scoop of vanilla. He was walking down some back alleys. The three dumb guys went to a fireworks store. They were pretty mad but completely clueless.

"How much for this gun?", asked the leader-of-the-pack, as he pointed to a real looking fake rifle, "I want to blow his brains out"

The store owner could only look in disbelief, "But that gun doesn't do anything", he said, pointing out it's plastic construction.

Two of the guys started looking around the fireworks shop. One of them found a cone full of a harmless plastique explosive material. He lifted the cover of the cone and the harmless explosive slipped out.

"Well you bought that one, boys", said the store owner.

Cut back to Joe. "The ice cream didn't agree with the heat and I threw up", he continued, "It landed right next to the turkey sandwich that I threw up last year". The "camera" moved over beside the vanilla ice cream vomit and sure enough, there is what was once the remains of an up-chucked turkey sandwich.

He walked inside a building. Two guys were in front of him. One guy was in back. The leader-of-the-pack had a shopping bag filled with two wooden blocks "glued together" with the harmless plastique. He handed the bag to Joe.

The boys were growing increasingly distressed and for some reason, saddened.

"I don't want it", said Joe as he passed it back to the leader. Joe and the three members started throwing the bag around as if it was a hot potato. These blocks with the plastique were obviously active and were ready to blow at any time. One of the boys threw the bag behind him, on to the stair case and everyone left the building in time for the staircase to explode.

I was in a balcony over what was supposed to be the Roman collesium. Except it looked like some run down apartment building. Around me were lower class people in British accents, and Tim Robbins, the actor.

It was hard to see but everyone was cheering on the action. I can only assume it was a gladiator match.

A bunch of these people arranged themselves in perfect domino fashion in a rectangle. Tim Robbins gave a might push and those people fell down to the ground. They didn't seem to mind laying down. One of them looked over in my direction.

"Oi!", he yelled, "Your standing is offensive ta me. Lay down, why doncha?"

Everyone started laying down on the ground.

"'Ey guard!", he yelled again.

Comming up a long staircase was supposedly a Roman guard. Except he looked more like a Terry Gilliam type of guard character.

"We're laying down, here" the man continued.

"It's a sin against the Roman gods to view the holy games while laying down," replied the Guard laying down the law, "How about that?"

Everybody started standing up again. The guard left downstairs.

I turned around and there was Tim Robbins sitting on the floor hugging his legs.

I turned back to the staircase and the guard had brought up a cot, a blanet and a blue pillow.

The dream faded to a "Later..." scene in which Tim Robbins had escaped. No details were given as to how he escaped, only that he did.

Sorry it's been a while. I haven't had a memorable dream in quite a while.

Me and another guest were sent to the back to do some drawings for the show. Backstage there was another desk that looked like the Conan's desk in the front of the stage.

I started drawing the dog from "What-a-Mess" because I remembered how Conan used to make fun of the dog all the time. Actually, no he didn't. It was a dream engineered memory, if you know what I mean. The "What a mess" dog drawing started carrying human characteristics so I drew Conan using the "What a mess" dog.

After I did the pencil work, I started drawing over it with a pen. Conan came to the back to see how we're doing.

"Can I finish this later?", I asked, "I could go on forever."

"Tell me", he ask, "When was your first world series?"

"What-!?", I replied.

I started getting the feeling that I wasn't supposed to be drawing. The other guy looks like he came from the Major League Baseball association.