I was with a group of people out in some swampy small town in the American South. There seemed to be someone in charge, like a professor, who was explaining the history of the region. He came across a rusted metal hatch in the ground.
"What do you see when you look at this?" he asked. We all murmured our answers in the background.
The professor lifted the lid to reveal two large PVC pipes leading into a shaft. In the middle of the shaft was a shelf with cake on it.
"The people of this town put all these around these parts," the professor explained. "Seems straight forward. You lower yourself down and grab up a nice slice of cake. But maybe it ain’t that simple. That shelf can’t support a grownup’s weight. You gotta figure out a better way to go down there."
"I’ll go," someone volunteered. It was Aaron Paul. (Note: I never even watched Breaking Bad! Get out of my dream!)
He lowered himself down, hanging on some ropes as he went. A piece of the shelf flew off and into the sewage water below. Two alligators leaped up and snapped at it. Eventually, Aaron got hold of the cake.
I started to wander off, apparently bored by the booby trapped cake sewer with live alligators in it. I headed to a metal trailer down a hill where I saw a man in a trench coat talking to a man in a wife beater.
"Your shirt is needlessly tight," the trench coat man said.
The other man wiped the back of his neck with a rag. He was by some old gutted car and he was drenched in sweat.
"You a cop or somethin’?" the wife beater man said, eyeing the trench coat man up and down.
The trench coat man glanced at me as if seeking approval. I nodded.
"Something like that," he replied.
I think you can guess who these two men were.