Last night's vivid dream:

An ancient tower in ancient times, pre Roman Empire. A mob of men in leather armor and crude weapons storm a clay watchtower, large and imposing, a key checkpoint in a land at war. A hundred men in the tower but no opposing army or defenders. They get near the top... when doorways hidden by clever cloth open and soldiers in studded leather armor and huge, square shields push in. They slam the invaders against the walls and menace them with metal maces but do not strike. Shove them back and into corners, trap them all in crowds or groups, numbered two to one at least.

The soldiers shove the army up the tower one by one. The first man to the top of the tower is rammed firmly onto the plinth like a lighthouse. Dark curtains fall all around him...
...and dark spots appear on the curtains. A smell of something... spiced. Baked. Fills the tower. The man screams....

But the spots grow, and begin to chatter. Eyes and mouths form, and metal instruments. The smell intensifies and the blobs take an almost human shape... and press their instruments to his body.

What we know as gingerbread men, who are doctors, give the man a checkup. They assess his health and ailments, these cookie people. The screaming stops and is replaced by confusion. He expected to die but instead he is poked and prodded and asked strange questions. The gingerbread men talk amongst themselves and then shove a lollipop into his mouth and send him out. He emerges, dazed and confused, walking down past the army and the soldiers. The next man is pushed into the curtains for his health checkup.