Rob Reiner is the father figure in a sitcom that I happen to be living out. He at one point becomes despondent, then flings himself out the apartment window. We (my TV family and I) rush outside to find that we were only a story up and Reiner is weeping pathetically on the awning that broke his fall.
I was at the bat for a high level college baseball team. I struck a sharp line drive up the middle. A few innings later, I did the same, but this time in the middle of the play the apartment started to flood. Also, the game was somehow taking place in an apartment. I was troubleshooting the crazy plumbing leaks with fellow uniformed college baseball players.
Harvey Keitel was some kind of con ringleader, like in Grand Budapest Hotel (but with regular Keitel hair), and he's running the show at a flea bag crime HQ. Downstairs, the police bust in the joint. Keitel's got an escape route, which is through a hatch in the ceiling. The reason it's such a great escape route is that it's wicked hard to climb into. Two handles (in the style of something from the gym, powdered with the hatched grip) drop down from the hatch and Keitel jumps up and grabs them. He's super-ripped, with massive guns covered in tats. He's going after these handles to somehow work his way up into the hatch and escape. Grinning like a maniac the whole time, like this is what he's in it for.
/ I went to the gym two nights ago for the first time in a long time. Clearly impacting dreamtimes.
I'm in a submarine bunker (bunker? the tubelike structure where submarines live) but it's a battleship docked. I'm standing high up on it somewhere, on a crow's next. Suddenly, the ship starts to sink. Someone has blown a hole in the side or sabotaged it (I think a sort of ship's captain villain figure like Patton). I realize that I must grab a nearby railing and suspend myself to survive. I grab the railing and think, "can I do this? Can I hold myself up long enough to not fall to my death?" Legs dangle and I begin to feel the strain. Wake up before the true test.