Dream: Unexpectedly Musical
I'd never been to the seedy apartment building before, but it wasn't hard to find. A ramp of rubble and refuse hugged the back of the building between two entrances. I found the apartment on the third floor. Half the rooms looked unfinished, but the kitchen was in use, and I could hear someone in another room. A tall, heavy man in his early 40's sat at a card table in a tiny closet off the kitchen. He looked as messy as his cramped office.
I handed him a packet of powdery white narcotics (which I thought of as "morhpine") because I'd heard that was the thing to do. He didn't recognize me, but when I produced the drugs he nodded and set the packet aside. In return, he passed me a large loaf of bread. The square loaf had the barely-leavened appearance of a good focaccia, but its aroma was sweet, not savory. I walked home.
The bread was delicious, strongly flavored with subtle spices I couldn't tell apart. I returned the next day for more, making the same exchange. A couple weeks later I was a regular. I started hearing rumors that the "subtle spices" I couldn't place were the narcotics that made the bread so good, but I didn't care anymore. discoflamingo came along when we went to get four loaves.
As the man passed us the bread, he threw in a couple free cards from some CCG I'd never played. I told him that I'd be up for a game if I ended up with enough cards for a deck.
discoflamingo asked him what was in the bread that made it so good, and he told us, much to our surprise. His friend walked in and showed us the jar of tiny black seeds which they ground to make the spice.
"Tapioca," his friend explained. "But these are the seeds. You never see it that way."
"That, and the solid-state radios," the first man added. "We've just been trying those."
We glanced at the loaves and noticed knobs protruding from the side. I spun a dial and tuned in a local beach-rock station.
Later, I brought gunn and a friend I'd met on the bus to get some bread; I kept telling them they had to try it. My friend from the bus waited outside. gunn followed me inside; the vagrants sleeping in the shadow of the rubble heap made her nervous.
I handed him a packet of powdery white narcotics (which I thought of as "morhpine") because I'd heard that was the thing to do. He didn't recognize me, but when I produced the drugs he nodded and set the packet aside. In return, he passed me a large loaf of bread. The square loaf had the barely-leavened appearance of a good focaccia, but its aroma was sweet, not savory. I walked home.
The bread was delicious, strongly flavored with subtle spices I couldn't tell apart. I returned the next day for more, making the same exchange. A couple weeks later I was a regular. I started hearing rumors that the "subtle spices" I couldn't place were the narcotics that made the bread so good, but I didn't care anymore. discoflamingo came along when we went to get four loaves.
As the man passed us the bread, he threw in a couple free cards from some CCG I'd never played. I told him that I'd be up for a game if I ended up with enough cards for a deck.
discoflamingo asked him what was in the bread that made it so good, and he told us, much to our surprise. His friend walked in and showed us the jar of tiny black seeds which they ground to make the spice.
"Tapioca," his friend explained. "But these are the seeds. You never see it that way."
"That, and the solid-state radios," the first man added. "We've just been trying those."
We glanced at the loaves and noticed knobs protruding from the side. I spun a dial and tuned in a local beach-rock station.
Later, I brought gunn and a friend I'd met on the bus to get some bread; I kept telling them they had to try it. My friend from the bus waited outside. gunn followed me inside; the vagrants sleeping in the shadow of the rubble heap made her nervous.