I have a Batman mug. It's black with the old school Batman symbol on it. You know the one; yellow oval, black bat. I love my Batman mug because I am a rather enthusiastic fan of that particular masked & caped crusader. Every morning, I make my breakfast & pour myself a cup of coffee in said Batman mug. This is my routine & I want to keep it that way. There is a semblance of peace in routine.

One morning, I went to pour my usual cup of coffee, discovering that, to my horror, my Batman mug had somehow acquired a chip in its glossy black coating. I was devastated to say the least! & of course, all methods to find out who or what was responsible were useless. No one would confess to having knowledge on the matter.

So, I went about my day, having still had my coffee in my chipped Batman mug. I wasn't about to give up my routine. The day passed & that night, as I lay in bed, it was still on my mind. I fell asleep & somewhere in the land of slumber, I dreamed of a new Batman mug.

But I'm not crazy! I swear!

The setting is some sort of dystopian future, and I am sitting in a pub. I am a member of a resistance group, and have been assigned a mission. I'm offered a ride to my destination by a man from the enemy group. He doesn't know who I am, but if he discovers my identity, he will kill me. Suddenly, Santa Claus appears and gives me multiple gifts. Each item is a clue pertaining to my true identity. I just thank Santa and shove them all in my backpack. Later, I am sitting in the car with the enemy man, holding on to my backpack for dear life. I know if he looks inside, he will figure out who I am, thanks to Santa's gifts, and kill me.

Dream ends here.