On this last day of NaPoWriMo, with one poem from God Damsel left to write, I dreamed this between snooze alarms:
Sarah Connor broke into a corporation run by the mob. She is frantically photocopying/printing documents, information from the company that she needs. There's a young male employee with her, a slovenly, slacker-type who's cracking jokes. He does not get the seriousness of the situation. Sarah senses that the terminators are near and tells the employee they need to go. He doesn't understand what's happening so she points to the security monitor. It shows rooms full of dead employees and the mob's heavily armed security forces shooting large machine guns. The security forces are quickly mowed down.
Sarah takes the employee to another room, perhaps a safer one, and continues to print out the documents that she needs.
* * *
One poem (slovenly, slacker employee) left to write. I must hurry.