Dreamt I was in a casino hall, or maybe kind of luxury hotel. Huge fountains, plush burgundy carpet, gold trims and fittings. The owner of the establishment was a Casablanca-guy type (forgot his name). He was in charge because he had talent and skill. He oozed respectability. He had personal value, and wasn't a bad man at all.

But he left the bright lights of the lobby, the sophisticated party atmosphere, the lounge singer, down dark hallways, to a small dark room. He sat on a couch in front of a coffee table.

He ordered his entourage, who had followed him in, to leave.

He took the liner from a nearby garbage can. He hunched over, and began eating caramel popcorn from it. It was ant-ridden, contaminated with clods of dirt, grass clippings, it somehow became huge, exploded on the table like a breached teratoma (warning, this link is disgusting, I put it here because I'm 90% sure that's where this image came from, even though in the dream it wasn't QUITE this disgusting), but he just kept stuffing his face.