I dreamt last night that I lived in the attic of a 7-11. Shut up, it had an attic. Next to my closet, painted a mix of burgundy and canary yellow, was a floor-to-ceiling window, with an odd-looking chicken standing around behind it. Occasionally I would go downstairs to buy something, most anything I needed. Or perhaps venture outside. If you think about it, it would be very handy to live upstairs from a convenience store.
One day, I was walking into the store, to go home, and I followed an airline pilot up into my attic. He seemed very much at home among my stuff. I asked him why he was there, and he said he lived there. Then he looked around, realized he was mistaken and left.
Now that I'm awake, I realize it was an Air Force uniform. I think. Maybe it was neither. It looked official.