A Red Room Inside a Wall

This morning I dreamed I was looking for a house that didn't physically exist anymore--it had been semi-magically subsumed inside a movie theatre, which was built where it used to stand. A colleague and some neighbourhood kid followed me inside, where we discovered a red-lit room inside the wall of a horrid industrial stairwell. Inside the room was tangential trace-evidence of psychological modification experiments performed on children years earlier, reduced to symbolic trophies designed to jump-start my own memories of these forcibly deleted events: A tape-loop, a photo-booth strip, some cloudy water in a jar. And then somebody started coming down the stairs towards us, moving carefully in the dark, with bad intentions in mind.

David Lynch and David Fincher crossbred with Rubicon, maybe? At any rate, far more offputting than the previous dream I'd had the same night, in which I was Sarah McLachlan performing a private concert for a bunch of vampires.

At any rate: Now it's Friday, with Thanksgiving weekend beckoning, and I need to get further towards the end of Chapter Thirteen. There's a whole damn lot of conversation in this book, which I suppose looks sort of bad. But then again, there's just a lot more shit in play, generally.

(I also made notes towards a new Law & Order: Murder Ballads entry--"Long Lankin"--with which I may distract myself, if things don't go well. Plus the extra 2,000 words I have to shoehorn into "[Anasazi]", which I think will be a truncated pick-up/derailed mugging/dream of battle sequence... But I also have lots of shopping to do, so we'll have to see how any of this ends up going.)