I dreamed that someone in NYC, somewhere in Manhattan, was paying me and another guy to take a satchel full of cash down a hill to a bank and give it to a bank employee. At first I didn't really understand why I and the other guy were being paid just to walk for a couple of minutes and hand something to someone. Then it occurred to me that there were tens of thousands of dollars in the satchel; and that if it was known a large bag of cash was taking this route to the bank, someone might try to steal it en route. Perhaps someone armed and dangerous, perhaps someone desperate.
I carried the bag. The other guy pestered me for a while to let him carry it it or at least look at the money, but I ignored him.
In the lobby of the bank there was great excitement because Jeri Ryan was there for some reason. When we walked in I didn't see her right away, but I saw a lot of men squaring their shoulders and jaws and trying to look taller and so forth.
The bank employee who was to receive the bag showed us to his desk, we made small talk for just a little while, and then he said, "I believe you have eighteen thousand dollars for me." I thought that the bag had forty-five thousand dollars in it. I excused myself, took a few steps away, called the people who had given me the bag and asked them how much was in it, they said eighteen thousand dollars, I came bank to the desk and apologized for the interruption and gave the man the bag. I also said that I'd feel better if he counted the money. He said that he was sure that it wasn't necessary, but I said I'd feel better if he did. So he opened up the bag.
It looked like it was all 20's, I said eighteen thousand would be 900 20's, he had a bill-counting machine on his desk, he fed the contents of the machine through it and it was exactly 900 bills.
Then there was a quiet commotion of murmers. I looked up and saw Jeri Ryan striding through the lobby, looking ultra-va-va-va-voom-glamourous, wearing a long close-fitting light-blue dress with a slit skirt, looked as if it might have been silk, and with her hair somewhat longer than she usually has it and parted on the side in a sort of neo-Veronica-Lake do, and somehow seeming to ignore every single man in the place.
I was given more bags of cash to carry here and there. Starting with the second bag I was sent alone, instead of having another guy coming with me as on the first delivery. I kept getting confused about the amount in each bag because all sorts of different figures were flying around in my mind, because I started to obsess about the amounts which had been in each bag, and about how many bills in various denominations would add up to the total amount in each bag, not to mention if a bag contained more than one denomination which of course would make it much more complicated, and so finally I gave up on trying to remember the amounts, and wrote each amount down as soon as I was told it, and crossed it out as soon as I handed it off. The more I thought about it the more I thought that I was earning my money because of the risk of attempted hold-ups. I wasn't particularly worried about being held up, because I'm a big and rather scary-looking guy and I don't worry much in general about being assaulted. I figure that there are many targets who look much easier than I. Then it occurred to me that I had never carried nearly this much money around before, and that that would make me a completely different sort of target, if potential thieves knew what I was doing for a living. So that it would behoove me to be a bit more on guard and aware of the people around me, looking out in case an assault was coming. But I still didn't feel afraid.