King of weird dreams

I am the king of weird dreams. I challenge anyone to best me.

Last night's specialty, perhaps encouraged by a hearty German repast earlier in the evening:

I dreamt that Little Brother Number 1 and I robbed a bank. We knew the dye pack would explode in the bag but we were not concerned and even laughed about it. (I must note at this point that in real life, neither one of us are the bank-robbing type. Just in case you wondered.)

To get the cops off our trail, I threw the sack of money onto the top of a building and then calmly proceeded to some family get-together we were having across the street.

Later, I regretted what I had done and racked my dreamland-brain trying to figure out how to get the money bag down from the building-top without being seen.

I awoke briefly and then returned to the dream sequence. In this Part II, the money bag had changed into a peppermint candy, which apparently still urgently needed to be disposed of before the cops arrived. I tossed it hurriedly to some kid who was rolling in a wheelchair down a bridge towards me and he caught it in his mouth but then spit it out, meaning I still had to figure out how to get rid of it.

Mercifully, I woke up at this point.