Last night I dreamed I was supervisin' the runnin' of some type of large event (wonder what that's about?) and a lot of people were sittin' about in a cafeteria / common room sort of place, because it was recess. Then omg! I suddenly realised that in about three minutes, the infamous worldwide sinister religious cult leader and VIP Harissa Chermoula would be arriving, accompanied by his alluring wife Jasmine. And omg, omg! we didn't have any of the right sort of food you're supposed to serve the high-ups in this cult, nor was I very clear on the strict forms of the protocols which must be adhered to in the event of a surprise visit from same. So I rummaged through the magazine rack until I found the instruction sheets. Phew! It's lucky they were there. About now, a crowd of Marketing and Promotions personnel flooded into the common room and began distributing ceremonial dried figs and empty, saucerless coffee cups of thick white porcelain. A lady in a Qantas uniform and pink hijab with scalloped edges read notes from a clipboard: in commanding tones she instructed us to remain where we were, stop talking, and keep our eyes fixed modestly yet firmly on the patterns in the carpet. Just in time too, because in they came, H.C. and the alluring J., who turned out to be a pop-eyed lady with a goitre and long, grizzled hair snaking out from under her black crocheted hat, fetchingly teamed with a droopy black jumper, black tights and black Blundstones. The holy pair bowed politely as they made a slow circuit of the common room / cafeteria, leaving by a conveniently open window. Phew! Everyone breathed again and began to relax, and just as smiles of relief began to appear the Marketing and Promotions people raced around snatching back the figs and cups. 'We'll look after those,' they said.