In the dream I just woke up from, my attempt to steal giant chocolate bars was interrupted by my boss reminding me to check and see how Call of Duty 4 ran with more VRAM, in order to address the incompetent assassination attempt made on me by a group of football hooligans, which thankfully ended in them gruesomely killing each other rather than me. They were attempting to do so because the car I was driving was causing me to troon out, but only while I was in it, which I was trying to get out of anyway at the bottom of the skyscraper parking garage, at the top of which was the computer containing the CoD settings (next to Clifford the Big Red Dog)