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.
He had been a slave owned by the Coca Cola corporation in the 1950s and his job was driving a delivery truck. There was a storm, and mudslides and floods and things, and he and his friend/partner had gotten into some trouble en route. His friend died – or somehow, for some reason, he had to kill his friend. He then either saved or killed a spider. Somehow this event left him obsessed with spiders, and he would later be freed and own this house, which became a spider sanctuary of sorts. Perhaps because he was the last slave, or perhaps because of the work he had done for arachnid preservation, he had earned some fame locally and his house still retained the purpose it had when he was alive, was perhaps even a museum dedicated to him.
There was also something about dinosaurs that I don’t quite recall.