I dreamed I was in a part of the main branch of the Detroit Public Library unlike any part I've seen in waking life: circular hallways bent around the center of the building, and the circles got smaller as I climbed to higher floors. The circular hallways were carpeted and lined with bookcases, and crowded with people who all seemed very serious and aggressive and efficient, like the more serious characters in His Girl Friday. On a rather high floor someone took me by the hand and dragged me to a television studio. In the studio everyone started treating me as if I were the Mayor of Detroit. (I'm not.) No one actually came out and said that I was the Mayor or called me "Your Honor" or "Mr Mayor" or anything like that, and I also didn't get the impression that anyone present actually thought I was the Mayor, but they all clearly had decided to act as if I were. And I didn't like this. It annoyed me quite a bit.
I was shown onto the set of a morning talk-show. Someone attached a microphone to my lapel, and a makeup woman fumbled around briefly with me. One of the hosts of the show was also on the set, as well as Katy Kay, the anchorwoman of BBC World News America. Not only was everyone treating me as if I were the Mayor, they were also treating Ms Kay as if she were a lifelong resident of Detroit and deeply involved with the minutiae of its politics. Ms Kay didn't seem to care for the situation any more than I did.
The TV people turned on the cameras on the set, and we were on the air, and the host started peppering both Ms Kay and myself with questions to which we had no answers whatsoever. Ms Kay glowered, removed the TV microphone from her lapel and walked off of the set, and I followed suit. She and I assured each other that we had had nothing to do with this bad idea. Then I woke up.