I got to the cafe, and the counter had been walled in; just a tiny window with a button for the intercom. I saw the boss on the other side of the glass, and pushed money into the slot.
'Can I have a cup of tea?'
'No,' came the reply. 'It's just gone 2:30 pm, and nobody's allowed tea or coffee after two.'
I snatched back my money. Meanwhile, my friend was looking around at all the CCTVs all over the walls. The place was bristling with them.
I woke up before the dream got any further. I dreaded the thought of having to be asked the password if I'd wanted to buy a Bakewell tart.