I’m with my girlfriend, looking for an apartment to rent inside an enormous, old and dilapidated wooden house. There’s a chaotic system of stairs leading everywhere and nowhere. Going up some steps, we can hear a couple of my girlfriend’s friends giggling from one of the rooms (or apartments).
On the top of the stairs a woman hunkers down with her panties dropped, and then she defecates. Right then my girlfriend has a sudden seizure. Her eyes roll to the back of her head and she turns completely stiff. I shake her by the shoulders, I yell at her and I slap her face, but she does not respond.
The girls in the room above us keep sniggering, seemingly not paying any attention to my panicking screams and cries for help.
All of a sudden I’m outside, and I’ve become smaller. I am barely taller than the house’s foundation. I’m carrying a pair of scissors. Three layers of curtain now encase the house, and I’ve got to trim their edges. It is vital that the curtains get a perfectly straight cut so that they match the bottom edge of the timber covering the house.
From inside I hear the weird girls shout: “Ask uncle! Ask uncle!”. From this I gather that my girlfriend has awoke from her strange seizure. I look at the curtains and I’m baffled by the fact that the house has turned into a beautiful, sleek red car, all chromed up and ready to hit the road.
Then I wake up, terribly confused.
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