|
I bet you want more dreams |
|
|
|
|
|
|
Alrighty. So, this one was last week some time. I was working in some old timey mall at a store that sold one of a kind inventions. Now these weren't actually useful things, let me tell you. (They never are...then it would make sense.) The owner of the store was also the inventor. He was one hell of a maniac. O___o Young though. He had time to straighten out. Maybe...anyway. I was doing a bunch of things really. Cleaning, fixing, and even helping him build more crap. Okay, fine, it wasn't "crap" per se. I'll just say he was in the wrong profession. He might've done fine as an artist. Or something.
So, while I'm fixing some doohickey, I hear him yell, "Everyone, step away from the items, please!" I turn around and see the place is freaking ablaze! So I run up to him and ask what the hell is going on. He replies, in an unbelievably cool tone of voice, "Oh, it's just routine, you see? We burn everything on Thursdays! It's perfectly alright." I didn't believe him. I'm sorry. I didn't bother looking for an actual bucket, so I just tore a piece of wood off of the wall and fashioned it into a makeshift bowl-ish thing. I got water from a sink in the back, and started dousing the flames. No one helped, of course.
The owner of the store didn't seem to care either way, so I eventually gave up and walked to one side of the store. There was a very tiny stage there, which had mutilated and highly "customized" instruments on it. You'll see what I mean in a sec. At the foot of the stage lay an enormous mummy's sarcophagus. It had been modified into a string bass. I was bored, and there was nothing to do now that everything was charred, so I started playing it. Not much later my parents showed up and were looking for something to buy. The stage had the only items that hadn't been burned, so the owner guided them to where I was. Meanwhile I was grabbing for a little toy bow to play the bass with.
Then my mom came over and tried to play it too. Though for some reason she said, "I don't know how much use it will be, my hands hurt more and more every day..." Not sure what that means. My mom doesn't have any problems with her hands. So, anyway, I'll never know if they decided to buy the thing. The dream ended with the inventor/owner guy teaching me how to tune it. It was rather odd.
 Einhaender · Thu Jun 28, 2007 @ 12:32am · 0 Comments |
|
|
|
|
|
