the warehouse chronicles

Well now, that was some lucid dreaming. It all started with me and some friends, who were driving a van across the country. We heard rumors of an abandoned warehouse in the neighborhood we were tooling through, so we drove up at night to check it out. We ran around inside with flashlights and eventually I ended up in the basement. I found a neat cup (it wasn’t the Spirit Valley Days cup that I got last year, and it wasn’t the matching Spirit Valley Days cup that I got a few weeks ago, but I did look around the basement trying to find them), and soon the sun was coming up and we needed to get out of there.

We needed to get out of there now! In the sunlight we could see that the warehouse wasn’t abandoned after all, and there were lots of racks of blinking lights that I suppose were supposed to represent networking routers or something. As we were running to the van my friend saw the cup, and said that he wanted one, too.

“Dammit, we don’t have time! The workers are going to be here any minute!”

He wouldn’t listen to reason so I dashed back in the warehouse. I slid down a rack of employee work shirts (they were an ugly green color, and I considered putting one on so I could blend into the approaching crowd) to the basement. I found the cups, but they were all covered in green paint and malformed, so it was really hard for me to find one that was decent. For some reason, a mug I got while on the Hopkins nordic ski team was there, too. I started browsing some terra cotta pots, and then remembered I had to get out of there now!

I guess it was Saturday so the workers never showed up, but once I got back to the van the mud monsters emerged from the basement. They were these huge black dripping things and moaned a lot, nevermind the fact that they were made out of mud. The only way we could defeat them was to burn down the warehouse, but attempts with gasoline didn’t work. Dear god, the enemy is immune to gasoline! What is one to do? My father showed up and turned on all the gas mains, filling the warehouse with a wavering, groovy-smelling atmosphere. He set up the furnace to spark in 150 cycles, which to us translated to just enough time to hop in the van and drive away.

It took us quite a bit longer to escape than expected, as Homer Simpson showed up and had to have his say in things. Eventually we found ourselves at the top of a cliff, watching the warehouse and mud monsters explode into a messy oblivion.

I had another dream after that, but the details are a bit sketchy. It ended with Mazataka as the cruel and ruthless head of a trans-global multi-national corporation. He was pasted up on billboards everywhere, wearing a North Face jacket and Oakleys with yellow lenses. He was holding a Coca-Cola bottle.