Dr. KJ (owner of C-company, from which I was recently laid off) was renting the ground floor of a building, a sort of office building perhaps. He had the entire thing made up to be a library, with extremely tall bookshelves filled every last one of them with copies of the same book. It was not exactly a book per se. It was a sort of binder that took the form of a hardcover book, and inside were pockets containing three or so smaller books of different sizes, and maybe one of those was actually an audio casette.
A Shaolin monk looking guy shows up at the door in ratty clothes with what seemed to be a family of Chinese weirdos. These guys kept trying to communicate nonverbally what they wanted, which was apparently the grass in the front yard. So I said fine, you can have the grass, and started leading them down when one of them needed to use the washroom. He ran down the hall to use it and I got worried he’d be stealing stuff, but it was just the washroom so whatever.
Anyway, we go downstairs and out front and they start pulling up the grass. I start worrying that our landlady NK will get pissed off. I sort of let them pick it all anyway.
Next I’m in a bus on a field trip to a summer park. Among the students are a friend of mine from T-school (an international private school I went to), JB and his sister CB. Haven’t thought of them for years.
My voice recorder contains an account of “being rendered like cartoon characters, Archie meets Scott Pilgrim”, of which I have no recollection.
A giant in the Toronto Library, he controlled three people. I don’t remember this part so much. The other part was about me wandering across the countryside, trying to get somewhere, or away from someone, and coming across a small town. I suspect I was casing houses to rob, as I remember walking across back yards and looking carefully at the houses.
One house was decrepit, and much of it was covered with spiderwebs. I also spotted spiders everywhere, it was loaded with them. I could not believe how every part of the house and it’s property was infested with spiders of every possible variety. I soon learned that this house was a special landmark and historical whatever. One of the last American slaves had lived here.
I had a jetpack.
It was rad.
I was rocketing around the city, going from one place to another, just enjoying the commute in a way that for once did not involve reading a novel, oggling a pretty lady commuter, or playing a game on my cellphone. All those things are lame compared to the thrill of absolute freedom of movement (within three dimensions, at least).
I was an adult and I was about to begin attending elementary school. Somehow this was not strange to myself or anyone around me. I was starting mid-year and had to sort of catch up with what was going on as I went.