I had a crazy, crazy dream last night.  I was walking around a city, doing something, and picked a paper.  We had just traded Roy to Boston for a touted prospect and a throw in.  The national sports columnists said it was a tough but fantastic move for Portland.  

I angrily yelled about it to anybody who would listen, than I lay down, depressed, in stream, covered in either clovers or liliy pads, sinking to the bottom, and then coming up to yell some more.  

One guy I was talking to (he was my friend, apparently) ended up being some sort of alien.  He was being stalked by other from his race (his race were shape shifters BTW, whose true form was kind of a purple flesh with a surface that resembled the moon, and dark bue jumpsuits with red shoulder pads, kind of in the style of Zap Brannigan from Futurama; I can't think of how else to describe it).  They wanted him dead, which led to a chase, a car crash, an explosion, a shoot-out, and a pile of several of my friends now-dead would-be killers.  His real father was somehow the key to everything.  He may have been good or bad; I forget the impression I had when it was shown to me.  His real father was Bill Murray (or linked to Bill Murray, but I'm pretty sure his real dad was Bill Murray.  It was explained through images, which were shown rather quickly).