oneiromancy
I volunteered my time at a local comic book convention where I would be assisting the batshit insane creator of Cerebus the Aardvark. He said I'd get eighty bucks despite the fact that I'm volunteering and said I should meet up with him at a certain time at a certain place.

Could not get back in touch with him at all. I was calling the telephone number he provided me to no avail, constantly getting voicemail. When I turned around I saw his silhouette in the window with orange flames burning behind him. Blink. Now he was Larfleeze, a.k.a. Agent Orange who embodies avarice.

This fucking scene kept playing over and over again, I was fully aware of the Groundhog Day effect but I was powerless to break the cycle. Plus I never got my eighty bucks.

The way this dream made me feel underscores my assertation that dreams need to belong to the dreamer rather than purposefully or inadvertantly programmed by things in waking life.