The Dream of January 16

I've been watching several episodes of Prison Break every day recently, since I fell in love with it after Gustav told me to watch it. Then, yesterday, I didn't watch any. When I normally would've been watching PB I was on the Improv Everywhere website. I LOVE those marvellous people. Honestly, with stuff like Gaza going down they sort of restore my faith in mankind. It sounds corny, and exaggerated, but it's true.

Anyway. So not the point. I didn't watch any and it resulted in the following dream (sadly, lots of it's faded, which is a shame, because I'm fairly certain there was a storyline worthy of a film in there):
The first bit I can remember isn't set in present-day time. It's probably the 1930s, from what I can gather of clothes and cars. I'm watching this as if it's a film, I'm not actually there.
Someone, who looks like a cross between Edward Norton and Wentworth Miller (the Prison Break guy), gets out of a car in front of a building. It's dark and rainy outside. He has a compress or something stuck to the right side of his neck. No bandage going around his neck, just that white patch (let's not get into how it's staying there, I realise they probably didn't have that medical tape-stuff back then, but this is my dream, and that's what it looked like).
He enters the building into something that'e either a small restaurant or a shop of some sort. There's a younger man, late teens - early twenties, inside, who's got his back turned to the man who just walked in (facing the "camera" which is now at the back of the room).
They start talking about the woman who owns the place they're in. She's the mother of the younger man and has apparently just ended up in hospital. The man with the compress asks how she's doing and the younger man says she's going to be all right, but is quite badly hurt. It's unclear what her injuries are, but from further conversation it becomes clear that she was meeting someone earlier that night and they hurt her. It's implied that she was somewhat involved in something illegal and a deal went wrong. The younger man turns around to face the other. He looks at him, silently, for a few seconds. The Norton-esque man says that they will find whoever did that to his mother and take care of it. He asks if she said anything about the person, and the younger man says she was very confused and nearly unconscious.
"She did tell me one thing, though... She managed to injure him before he attacked her."
The other man nods, completely unfazed.
"That's good. That is really good, now we know what to look for."
"Do you think I'm an idiot?"
The patch-man's face darkens, and he knows he's been caught.
"No. That's why I hate having to do this."
I don't find out what he had to do, but I think we can assume the younger man doesn't make it out of there.

The next parts I remember are set in modern times. The same man as in the previous dream (although he's looking more like Wentworth Miller and less like Edward Norton now) is in jail, and so am I. The trouble from here on in is that I can only remember bits and pieces, which is a shame as I can sort of recall things I have trouble describing and had I been able to, and piece those things together with one another, I think it would've been a cool story.
This man is the brains in that prison. He's the one people turn to when they need something - those who dare to. I know him better than anyone in there, but not enough to really know him, and not enough to not be surprised at the brilliant schemes he puts into place.
I'm struggling to remember these schemes, but the only one that immediately springs to mind is one where he got a fellow prisoner back some of his personal things, like a watch and his keys and stuff. I remember watching the man get his stuff back from the top bunk. My genius friend/boyfriend/whatever has put them in a pair of trousers and handed those to the man who wanted his things back, saying "you might want to change your trousers". Apparently the other man didn't quite know how many things he could really get back since he starts laughing as he puts his hands in the pockets and says something about Norton-Miller-esque man really being "something".
I think we're in a room with two bunkbeds placed alongside one wall. Below me is where my friend sleeps, in one of the other beds (probably the bottom one) is where trouser-man sleeps. And the other one must belong to Kit, because at some point she is teasing me about having so many different tops there. Apparently we get to wear our own clothes, at least on the upper body. And as I feel my face flush and I stutter something about just having four or five, in my dream I recall that my mum (who apparently visited me a lot) had brought a few and I was probably up to about seven or eight. Kit smiles condescendingly at me as she tells me that she has four and I have more than she does.
There's another instance in which my brilliant bunk-buddy has given me something that I think is a kind of mp3-player, only it's much larger and heavier. It's sort of shaped like a half circle and probably two inches thick, and thirteen inches along the "diameter" (it's not really a diameter since it's not a full circle, I guess). There are these things on it... Like little clamps or something, and when I remove them, music seems to flow out through them, as if they're headphones or something. I manage to connect my proper headphones to the thing before anyone hears the noise it's making.

That's all I remember before the scene where I've been released but I'm still helping out my friend who's back there. I'm on my way down a hill in a place here in Jönköping, that apparently leads from the prison. Suddenly, there's a man waiting for me. It's the former prime minister, Göran Persson, and apparently he knows I'm up to something with my friend and for some reason that's his business (as if he was with the police or something).
I think I'm out for a jog or something, but I've slowed down to a walk to talk to him. Then, from my headphone, the intro to Opeth's The Drapery Falls kicks off and I start jogging. So does he. When we reach the point the distorted guitars start playing he starts to run at full speed and I struggle to keep up. We reach the bottom of the hill and there, behind a fence, is my friend Louise (Swedish one, not English). It seems I'm still inside the prison grounds, so I guess I haven't been released, as I thought when the scene started. She looks surprised at seeing Göran there but greets him. I'm sure we have something to do with "business" to talk about and I think we manage to, once he leaves.

That's all I remember!
(And I can now add Göran Persson to my list of politicians I've done unexpected things in dreams with. Running with him is almost as strange as that dream I had a few years ago where I built flats for the homeless inside a castle on a cliff with Thomas Bodström.)