OK, weird dream time.
As our tale begins, I am sat at my computer doing whatever, and I spy a group of three blond-haired monkeys (or are they small people?) dancing about on the rooftops across the road. Of course, this being a dream, the rooftops are somewhat closer, as if the houses back right onto their garages, with no garden in between. The three of them are looking terrified, and their eyes are darting around as if they're looking for something. Down they leap, to the pavement across the road (again, not possible in the real world because of the gardens and garages between the houses and the pavement) where they are suddenly beset by a group of men who leap out of a van with syringes. Each one of the monkey-things is injected (with a tranquiliser, it would seem) and dragged into the back of the van.
Because something strikes me as odd about all this, I reach for my camera. I fumble to get it ready so that it takes a photo without the flash (it's broad daylight, so even on Auto settings, it shouldn't feel the need to fire the flash!) but, despite my best efforts, the flash goes off, alerting the men to my surveillance.
One of them runs across the road and demands that I hand over the picture (or the camera, since it's digital), and I flatly refuse. After all, what can he do? I have every right to take a photo of something that suspicious. He makes a grab for something on my desk (wait... my window was open?!) and so begins a long campaign of terror waged by these people, who are described as 'gypsies', in town with their bizarre circus.
At every turn from then on, my family and I are accosted by one or more of these people, and threatened over the photo I took. Every time one of my parents leaves the back door open, I rush to close it in case they get in (on more than one occasion they very nearly do, but I manage to beat them back over the fence or through the gate). Slowly it dawns on me that, even if I destroyed (deleted) the photo, they'd require some impossible proof that I hadn't duplicated it somewhere, so we'd never truly be free of them.
One of their number, a middle-aged woman with curly blonde hair, tells me that they'll keep on taking things from me until I hand over the photo/camera. At this point, I notice how quiet the house has become. I run downstairs and find the place deserted... They've taken my parents.
So, basically, I admit defeat. I head to their encampment, camera in hand, and see the display of 'trophies' they've gathered over the days/weeks/months (toys, for the most part... but arranged in their boxes like a display in a shop). When I present them the camera and delete the photo in front of them, they greet me as one of their own... but I'm not sure they returned any of my stuff (not that they said they would, of course, only that they'd stop taking more), and they don't leave. They accept my defeat entirely, and just walk all over me.
I'm pretty sure there was more... I believe I even had to smuggle my parents out of the camp... but that's all I can remember clearly.
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