Special ops roomate's locker dream
Last night I dreamed that my roommate was moving out. She was a special ops agent, but she didn't look it. She had brown hair, brown skin, brown clothes and slouched. We were helping her move the furniture around so she could vacume the place before turning in the keys. She smiled at us while she vacumed, like she wasn't anyone dangerous at all, the sort of cheerful person who would make a great grandma type one day. While we were moving stuff, I found her locker. It had a pyramid shaped display in it, the kind with hard clear plastic pockets, like you put brochures in. On two sides were pockets with white labels and the names of people I knew in punched on them in black Georgia font. When rotated, the other side had all of her lock picking tools. She had a huge variety of tools neatly arranged for easy access. She apparently liked lock picking quite a bit, because on the inside door of the locker among the pictures of tropical vacation spots pasted up were a number of lockpicking cartoons cut out of newspaper. I can't remember any of the jokes, but they were all funny.