Bag of Coins | The Dreamweaver

I was at the airport about to head off to my destination, when I suddenly decided to change my plans and go home.

My pockets were filled with dozens of old and rare coins and I was dragging a large plastic bag also filled with coins of lesser value.

I decided to cash in the coins in the bag before leaving the airport, and when I got to the checkpoint window, the customs agent—an attractive young blonde—was berating a young man with Down Syndrome who had been in front of me in the line.

When it was finally my turn and I approached the window, I asked the agent what the young man had done to deserve such a scolding and she told me it was none of my business and to step away and go to the end of the line at a window on the other side of the hall.

I waited for a long time before my patience finally ran out and decided to go to the supervisors office and lodge a complaint against the agent who had mistreated the young man.

Seeing the agent in the supervisor's office, I began shouting accusations about the agent until she stormed out of the office and, visibly upset, began threatening me with violent force if I didn't retract my complaint and be on my way. At one point, she did some karate kick moves with the intention of further intimidating me.

Then I woke up.

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