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dreamin'

dream: 20 december 2000

last night i slept an hour, extremely weary, then woke up and farted around alone. no dinner, no conversation with an internet lovely. just some email, baldur's gate, packing for XMas and then this:
In a dream I wanted to tell my mom that this house had doubled in value. I recalled there was another two bedroom, one bath down the street that was going for at least $350,000. It was very nearby, so I up and left to see it.

It looked like a Marin house, from the outside - small, but tall, terraced front, faded grey wood. Ivy and greenery growing up around and over it. Inside I discovered that in fact this was more than a house, this was one man's expansive modern American death temple. The place was a graveyard, with dozens of births on each floor. Inside, it was stone like a castle, but with small tubular elevators, and a museum of spooky stuff in the basement. The man behind it was older, with a mustache and grey hair. I didn't see much of him - there was an entire staff hired to give tours and run the odd machines. His short wife with curly brown hair showed me around the basement - it was a tribute to death and dying, in a fanciful or horrific style. Skeletons had their eyes light up. Devices involved in death jerked about in animatronic play.

From one end of this stone basement packed with weird stuff to the other, and then up another tubular elevator to end up in a large gourmet grocery story. My jaw dropped. Not only was there a wildly weird death cavern down the street from me, but it had something resembling Fairway Market, a well-lit gourmet food shoppe in a basement in New York. I hoisted up a huge piece of Hamachi Sushi, pale yellowtail tuna, on a toothpick, it was a taster. There weren't too many people around, but to everyone who could hear I was spewing a lively string of total astonishment.

Why was this place up for sale? He was selling for a very particular reason, like he couldn't fit one thing or he wanted some architectural feature in his next place. But where he was set up was so unique, I couldn't imagine that he would ever find anything as good, nor could I imagine that he would ever find someone who could take over this insane empire.

And then people started to pack it in. Colin's friends from high school, Eddie, David, Anne (one year younger than he). All of a sudden I'm slapping high fives and finding I'm standing in the hallways as young-thirty-something white people stream about checking out this weird death funhouse and gourmet food emporium. I didn't know whether or not all this attention was going to make it easier for him to keep the place, but I did find out that he had plenty of open burial places on the 2nd through 6th floors, and many eager black polo-shirted co-workers ready to inter dead bodies in the thick stone floors. How can you bury people above ground, in a place you're trying to sell?

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