I was in some kind of workshop and when I came out there was a guy sleeping in my car. He looked like Dave Chappelle. Also the roof had been sanded down and the plates changed, but I didn't realize this yet. I woke him up and told him to "get outta here." He said, "Alright, but can I just take the number plate with me?" "Yeah, whatever," I said. He took off on a moped.

When I realized I had two plates that were different and the top of the car now had a confederate flag on it (because of sanding, apparently), I took off after him. I could see him, but he was riding on the wrong side of the street and so hard to approach. At some point I switched over to his side, and luckily I became vary narrow so I could fit in beside the oncoming cars like he could. I grabbed him with my hand and gave him a chilly look.

Standing there were some policemen. I was relieved. "I said, this man stole my car, or my numberplates, or something. I want to turn him in." The Chapelle look-alike was quiet and sheepish this whole time. The cop said, "Talk to them inside," sticking his thumb in that direction. Inside there were a bunch of cops using a converted space to work on their robotics project. They were thrilled when it suddenly worked, extending a tiny shaft to poke through a piece of fabric, and angry at the Japanese nuns who'd won the prize money before. They would win this time.