For you, the dress code is casual.

Thursday, August 31, 2006

Bah! Weird dream!

I had the strangest dream, which is now all hazy, but let's see if I can piece it together.

It was a day on which one of my photography buddies and I were driving around in a car I used to own, looking for something. Then I spotted this ramshackle old house that must've had a tree fall on it at sometime, 'cos it was split open up top. It was some 100+ year-old house with no paint and boards falling, and something that was very, very unsafe to go in.

So, it's nearing sunset and I get up and grab my camera and go to shoot some photos of it. The lighting's not so good so I figure I'll come back the next afternoon, but that it's the kind of place that would make for eery black and white photos like I used to shoot in the Yukon, back in the day.

The next day I come back, and it's the same nearly-falling-down shithole it was the day before, but this time there's a real estate agent showing the house. She keeps calling it a "nice fixer-upper" and is trying to show it. She turns to me and says, "It's a shame people have so little imagination!" She looks distinctly like my mother, too. "And look! A claw-foot soaker tub!"

We walk through the living room and I notice what looks to be a zombie on the couch. "Oh, don't mind him. He's an everlasting corpse. Try as I might, I just can't get rid of him! I just think of him as a husband without a remote control."

Weirding out, I notice lots of rather nasty things that are making me uncomfortable -- mold, holes on the floor, rats, that kind of thing. I turn to my friend and say, I need air.

We step outside and are suddenly riding a train. The whole time, I'm trying to make him look 'cos on the right, my side of the train, there's all these bushes and stuff but if you look closely, the rock isn't rock, it's turrets of castles from the early times of the UK (we're somehow now in England, but the house is a combination of Vancouver turn-of-the-century and the house as I imagine it from Graham Greene's story The Destructors, which (along with any work by Greene) I recommend to everyone). Everywhere I look on the right has castle turrets and ridges, whereas the left side is all scenic pastures.

I don't remember how the dream ended. The real estate agent was confused why she wasn't getting offers, though. Strange. Weird, weird, weird dream. I couldn't shake it, despite waking up at 5 and thinking "this is right fucked, man" and trying to get it out of my head. Bah! Weird.