So last night I dreamed I was looking for some, uh, particular erotica, and was directed to a store I'd never been to, in a kind of sketchy part of my dream landscape. The store was enormous, and apparently, besides the adult books, the owners had acquired the stocks of all the other hobby stores that have ever been in my dreamland. I'm talking room after room of comic books, every issue an awesome one, never a lame crossover, never a crappy artist, never a mischaracterization. I'm talking rooms of wargame rulebooks and out of print D&D modules. I'm talking rooms full of model kits, 1/440 scale Romulan freighters, lovingly detailed according to some throwaway passage in a Star Trek novel written by some forgotten hack in '87, I'm talking
vintage stuff from movies you remember only one awesome line from. And then, once you wind through all of that... you come to the gallery. A hall the size of my house, lined with paintings and sculptures, I'm talking fine goddamn art here, mostly on the same topics as the rest of the store: sex, gaming, science fiction, fantasy.
And then I'm hearing familiar voices, but they sound strange, they're out and up, and I pass out the back of the gallery, into the garden, which might also be called a park. A path winds up and around a grassy hill, doubling back to the upper floor of the store after passing behind a gigantic elf-home-tree.
occlupanid is there -- that's who I heard -- talking to some woman with hair exactly the color of
slurketta's but it's not her. I have to bring Sooz out here, I think. jD and I continue to follow the path and run into
uberfilmsnob as well, but I wake up before I get to see what's on the second floor.