Tev Makes Some Words Happen

Had a strange dream last night. I forget most of it, but the last part went like this:

Neil has a house he is trying to sell. It is a large black Victorian house. I’m not sure where he got it, but he’s having a hard time selling it, so I go out to take a look at it. There are rumors that it is haunted or something.

It is a large, imposing structure, looking like a cross between a Victorian house and a church. There are large windows, the kind that are tall and rectangular and taper at the top to an arch, and divided into cells like stained glass. Except they are not stained glass, they are regular glass, and a number of the panes are broken. I wonder how much it will cost to replace all those custom panes.

Kind of like this, but without the tower, and add on an Addams Family type Victorian house section.

There is an old hearse in the driveway. I am convinced the house is a converted funeral home, but I am told it used to be the headquarters for a circus. When I go up to the front door, it has a brass plaque, saying something about the circus and the owners. I go inside.

It is set up like a museum, with an area for walking and displays on either side. The displays are plaster reliefs proclaiming the wonders of the circus. They are in the style of old woodcuts, but in high relief and painted in bright, glossy colors. One of them shows women whispering to one another. “If you hear, you’ll wish you’d seen!” the text below the women declares.

The style of the illustrations, although the composition had kind of a WWII propaganda poster feel.

There is a large sign pointing downstairs that says “See the blast site! Actual soil samples!” with a picture of a jeep in the desert or savanna. The people in the jeep look like they are going fast over bumpy terrain, they are holding onto their hats and pith helmets. I get the feeling it is something about World War One in Africa. There are two stairways going down, they both look like they go to the same landing. I take the one on the left.

The lower level is even more like a museum, with glass display cases, descriptive text plaques, and buttons you can press to start a narration or animation. The first one is like a huge terrarium, but filled mostly with dirt. There is a robotic arm with a scoop attached which is poised to scoop some of the dirt, like a mars rover. I press the button to start the display.

The display case lights up, and the robotic arm scoops some dirt into a container. A woman’s voice comes on, describing how the soil is from the original site where the bomb went off, and goes on to say something about soil analysis and stored memories.

The next display has a microscope and some flower petals. When I press the button, the flower petals flutter, blown by an unseen fan. The lights come on, but are flickering. A display screen comes on showing the microscope’s view, but I’m not sure what I’m looking at. The woman’s voice starts, but there is something wrong with the recording. “Conspiracy theorists believe… Conspiracy… Conspiracy theorists beli… Conspiracy th…” the voice repeats endlessly, stuck at the beginning of the lecture.

Before I can explore the rest of the exhibits to figure out what it’s all about, I wake up.