It's beginning to come back to me now. That strange dream I had, about ten hours ago, now filters back bit by bit.
I was visiting the old ellison place (again, it seems...as now an earlier dream returns from an earlier month, set in the same house) but looking at it now, it's obviously not Ellison Wonderland at all. But this time, in this dream place, I open one of the doors in the living room. Why, you ask me? There was some reason, I'm sure. It seemed like a good idea at the time, although the door itself had an air of long disuse.
Now that the dream is more clear, it was definitely much longer than I care to recount with aluminum stylus and virtual hunt-and-peck keyboard. It involved an answering machine, car keys and hastily sorted vhs tapes; and also the imminent return of harlan himself, although I don't recall him actually making an appearance.
So anyway, back to this room I found, off of the main visiting area of the imaginary house. Now, it's not metaphorical of anything; just a memory of a weird dream I had. This was a smallish, dust-ridden square room with doors on each wall and comfortable antique chairs in every corner. A waiting room, of some long-forgotten use, it led to a bedroom and other areas of the place. How odd this room seems. Nothing happens there in the dream, either, which seems to skip to a different location and an old-model answering machine.
--fragments of my strange dream from last night--
General discussions of interest to readers and fans of Harlan Ellison.
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