Dream dictatorship

Man, oh, man! I had a hilarious dream last night. It starts with a televised expose of North Korea's secret production of minivans for the automotive industry. I see Dodges, Fords, and Toyotas trucking out of a North Korean factory, destined for sale in the U.S.A. Next thing I know, I'm an undercover agent in North Korea, evidently to get the lowdown on Kim's Caravan-craving cadre of card-carrying Communist comrades. Why the U.S. government would send an ivory-skinned, blue-eyed Caucasian undercover among Koreans is a question for another day, I suppose. Anyway, I'm living in a dingy, concrete-floored hovel with another agent--who, fortunately for me, is Korean. Unfortunately, he also happens to be a North Korean intelligence officer. Next thing I know, my entire ring of acquaintances is sitting in an opulent, tastefully furnished room in what must be a government building. We are interrogated politely by my roommate/mole, who it turns out has developed quite a taste for decadent, bourgeois, American culture. At some point, I'm left alone in a room, and I make my escape via the window. I quickely pull myself up on a roof overhang (this is ridiculous for anybody who has seen my gut IRL), and start running along, and climbing on, the various roofs of an enormous, Asian-style building that I shall call the Kim Il Sung Memorial Axis of Evil Pagoda. So I'm hopping along over KISMAEP with North Korean agents chasing me. Suddenly, I'm among a large throng of people pouring out of what seemed like a stadium attached to KISMAEP, into safety (were they going across the DMZ? I dunno). I realize that DW is back in the KISMAEP, which is kind of strange, as she was not present in the dream at all until that point. I head back into KISMAEP, knowing that I'm very likely to be taken prisoner by that Caravan-craving cadre of card-carrying Communist comrades. End of dream.