My dreams included Norman at work wanting to pay me a sawbuck to be the designated driver for the trip back from some function at which he expected people to be getting soused. The bill, though, looked fishy to me, as I held it up against a side window of the Pam Dawber & made a joke about how $10 must be his standard offer (for earlier, apparently, and I think more than once, he had paid me a tenner for something else). He seemed insulted when I cast aspersions upon its presumed authenticity. I pointed out a word in small print on it---something overt, like "COUNTERFEIT," that seemed certain to be suspect.
There was something before that I can't remember now.
I did win a Borders gift card in the latest Name Something contest at work, and N. presented me with the prize yesterday. But I'm sure there's some work/money/value/sell-out/responsibility ambivalence in there, too.