Trashed elbow

My dream starred Mel Gibson. He was a fairly well-off guy in a fairly well-off neighbourhood. He had a nice house and a nice car and a nice life. Except for the neighbourhood kids, that is.

For some reason, these two otherwise mild-mannered kids made Mel Gibson the target of a vicious campaign of broken windows, vandalism and they even stole his car. Fairly understandable behaviour, you might think except that this wasn't meant to be the Mel Gibson; it was Mel Gibson playing the role of a relatively blameless person. My dream was a movie, you see.

So, in the climactic scene of the movie, Tommy and Jimmy (I just gave them these names) were walking home from after-school club one evening and they found Mel Gibson asleep in, of all things, an abandoned Land Rover. That's when they realised that their continual abuse had crushed Mel Gibson to the extent that he now didn't even have a roof to sleep under.

I was expecting a Hollywood ending, where the youthful tykes would realise that their high jinks had gone too far and would beg for Mel Gibson's forgiveness on bended knees. Of course, it would then transpire that the whole situation was a misunderstanding, that he was not, in fact, destitute; there was a perfectly harmless explanation for why he was asleep in an abandoned Land Rover. Regardless, the boys would have realised the error of their ways and everyone would be a little older and a little wiser.

That's how the Hollywood ending would have gone.

In my dream, the boys set fire to the Land Rover.