This dream started in my studio. It was night, but I had the front window open. A car pulled up in front of the building, and a couple of my neighbors got out. One of them was wearing this fluffy white fox? costume. I stuck my head out the window and said “Wow! Nice fursuit!” as she climbed up the stairs; she nodded, and proceeded around to the side of the building where her entrance is. (My apartment building is a small one, that doesn’t have a foyer or anything – ground floor apartments like mine open directly to the outside, upper ones have short stairs up to their doors.)
Then I went into the bathroom and things got decidedly stranger.
Like the previous dream about my kitchen, the bathroom was much bigger than normal, and all of this extra space was filled by cabinets, shelves, and drawers. Probably from Ikea. I opened a white cabinet and found six or seven plastic drawers inside, all filled with clothes. Some looked nice, I made a note that I’d have to spend some time trying these on and seeing what I liked. As with the extra stuff in the kitchen, my brain told me that all this stuff had been here since I moved in and I’d just never looked at it before.
And in the back of the bathroom, past the toilet, was a corridor. It sloped downwards and made a couple of turns, and then I was at the entrance of a secret gun club. Apparently my relatives had been involved in setting it up. (I’d also been here before briefly and forgotten about it.) I got a tour of the whole place. I was shown through a couple of turns, to a long hall where something was happening: a small child was being made to hold some little red thing at one end, while a club member took aim and shot at it. Then another club member stepped up with a more elaborate act. He was dressed like the Riddler, with several green-clothed minions; when he took his shot at the person serving as his target, his bullet expanded in mid-air and turned into a costume that fell upon the target, dressing him as the Joker (Heath Ledger version) when seen from the front, and Two-Face when seen from the back.
The person who was guiding me around explained that they never shoot with normal guns. Ah, I thought. This is nerdy artsy gun shooting. How very Seattle. I pondered introducing some of my burlesque acquaintances to this club, as I felt like there would be some crossover.
The hall had changed into an open field somewhere during the Bat-villain trick. My guide took me across the field, to an area near its edge. We went through a couple patches of some of the tallest dandelions I’d ever seen; their stalks came up to my waist or so. There was a chain-link fence at the end, enclosing the whole gun club’s grounds, and a square area that was fenced off again within it, with a little space between it and the outer fence. My guide vanished into that little space, but when I tried to follow there were coils of barbed wire in the way.
Then my guide was inside that inner fence, saying something to me. I can’t remember what it was – maybe something about a reality virus? – but what I do remember is that he was quite distinctly SPEAKING IN ALL CAPS.
While I was having this conversation with him, I found myself floating off the ground, and remembered that just last evening I’d been talking with my tattooist about how I almost never seem to fly in dreams – and suddenly remembered a bunch of previous dreams where I had flown that I just couldn’t remember. (This was a thing we actually talked about, not a thing I dreamt we talked about.)
Then I woke up.