More Caves and Corners

I am on an adventure at some sort of specialized art school. Narrowly escaping the vampires, I skid to a halt on the metal grating covering the floor and turn the corner into a damp cave that has been turned into an admission advisor's office. The two women speaking there ignore me, and I sneak over a pile of pillows and hang on the edge of the cave, trying to prepare myself for the plunge into the icy cold river rushing by below me. A small black beetle crawls over my shoe as I swing to and fro from one arm.

That wasn't supposed to happen

Kathryn and I are working at Solstice, and we are keeping the cafe open late for a show of some sort. I feel alright about this until we try to use the cash register and the "3", "00", and "cash" keys are broken off. In a panic, I try to get the espresso machine mechanic to come back and fix it, but he has already left. When I turn back, someone has started a list of everything sold and convinces me it will be alright. Matt, A-Strike, Jacob, Eva, and some other band members approach, and I greet them warmly. Later, they are over talking to Devin, who I think is also helping with the event, and I overhear A-Strike say, "Yeah, and I keep getting these e-mails from the dream blog- we all have, since our names were first mentioned it put us on its e-mail list and won't stop sending us updates!"
I can feel my cheeks burning.I say, "No... not all of you?"
A-Strike says, "Yeah, we're all on the list now!"
Shit! I just had a dream about making out with Matt. I turn to him, and he looks at me for a second before turning away in embarrassment. I ask, "Matt, can we talk outside for a minute?" He nods, and we step out into the alley. I say, "I'm really sorry, Matt, that shouldn't have been something you had to read."
He says, "No! Look, it's okay, don't worry about it Jenny!" much in the way Kris said I shouldn't worry about being a jerk.
I continue, "I just think, well, it wouldn't even have been weird if Andrew hadn't mentioned it and-"
"Exactly!" He cuts in enthusiastically, and says, "Good, I'm glad we're clear on that!" and he hugs me, and we both get a little too intimate.

I am on an a hike with a group of classmates, including my secret lover, and a teacher. We reach vantage point on a steep cliff, overlooking the sun setting on the ocean. Everyone begins to move down the steep path to the beach, and I quickly try to find a way to indicate to my lover that we should stay behind. Just as the last student rounds the bend, I turn around, and almost stumble over a body lying face down on the ground. I gasp in shock and then decide the man is probably taking a nap. I shake his shoulder and say loudly, "SIR, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?" several times, before backing off and realizing I probably shouldn't touch the body. I do spot a wallet nearby and pick it up. I pull out photos of a man, who I presume is the body, although I can't see his face. The name on the credit card says "Wilder". I yell to my brother, who appears at my side. "Nick! Do you recognize the man in this picture? You had Mr. Wilder for English in high school, didn't you? Is this him?"
Nick nods.

I find myself suddenly underwater, unsure of which way is up. There is too much pressure and I need to get to the surface. I do i somersault, looking for the sun, but there are odd glints of light in the dark water in every direction. Suddenly there is a powerful rushing, something shooting up beneath me from great depths. A giant iron capsule nearly slams into me as it rushes to the surface.
I get a flash of the future: the scariest mutant sharks I can imagine are thrashing around in the water around me, having been released from the capsule when the chain anchoring their isolation chamber to the floor of the ocean snapped-
I am underwater still but there is no sign of the capsule or the sharks. This time I notice a chain leading down into the depths and I understand it leads from the capsule at the bottom to a buoy on the surface. I immediately start swimming to to the surface, knowing I have to get away before-
The capsule explodes from the water near me and shoots into the sky. I frantically swim towards the same cliffs I stood on before with the body of Mr. Wilder, hoping I can get away before the capsule falls from the sky and the sharks are released.
Now I am with someone, a friend, possibly my lover from before. We are still about a hundred yards from the base of the cliff, but we can see the bottom is not more than twenty feet away. We hear yelling from the cliff- we are saved!
But then we get a better look- the figures line up, each one carrying a large stone over his head. One by one they throw the stones, and all I can do it sit there and think, "Are they really throwing stones at us?" until one nearly hits me over the head and I have to dive underwater.

I examine several packages of macaroni from the cupboard, reading the instructions and trying to decide which one to prepare. They all have strange complex instructions, though, such as, "At 4900 feet, boil 10 quarts water for 30 seconds, then remove half, saving one cup for later use. Add half package of macaroni..."

I walk across campus, soaking wet, giving a tour to the same group that was at Solstice earlier, now also including Anna, Kellen, and Alex. We arrive at Red Square... but it is white. I assume it is ice- they must have removed red square, installed a lake, and it froze over. Kathryn suggests, "Let's go swimming!" Everyone agrees, the weather is as nice as can be (cloudy), and starts removing their shoes.
I am the first one ready, running backwards as fast as I can with my elbows out behind me to break through the ice. Alex and Kathryn are close behind. When I reach the "shoreline" and throw myself backwards, however, I do not crash through ice. I get tangled up in the white butcher paper that is actually covering the lake, and my feet get stuck, in what I fear is mud.
"Stop!" I yell, "You're going to get covered in mud!" Alex is already in, though, and he explains that the bottom is paved, with stairs leading down from the edges.
A campus police officer blows a whistle and walks up to us across the butcher paper surface of the lake, explaining to me as I sit tangled in the soggy paper that Alex is right: red square is actually a paved pool, but it is closed for the winter. We thank her and crawl out of the pool, moving into the lobby of a small art gallery to wring ourselves out.

Anxieties

The band is putting on a concert that is the culmination of a lot of hard work. We have taken a bus to somewhere nearby, where we will wait for our turn to perform.

I join my friends by the buses. Anna and Micaiah say no, I can't come, and everyone leaves me standing on the sidewalk, mouth agape, to eat lunch by myself.

In the practice room, I am excited to prove to Matt Perry that I have finally found my mouthpiece. I pull it out of my backpack and display it proudly. I realize that it is almost time to perform and that none of my friends have concert attire on. I open the door and smugly tell them that they're late. It is good to one-up them, as I'm still sore at them due to the lunch circumstance.

We are onstage, ready to perform. My father is conducting. Instead of sitting in chairs, the horn section has small cots on which they can recline. My father raises his baton, and I realize I don't know where any of my music is. I have been given several books full of music, but unlike the rest of the band, I haven't taken the time to locate the songs we will be playing. I frantically shuffle through the pages as the music starts. I can't find any of the music I need. I throw the books to the floor and curl up on my cot to cry, furious at myself for not preparing properly. My father sees that I am distraught and cuts the band off, running to my side. I'm mad at him now, for placing me above the band, when they've all worked so hard to be here. As the curtains falls into place over the stage, I trudge out the back door, rather than face the wrath of the band and my so-called friends.

I am in a jungle. Rather, it is a very, very large room, filled with flora and fauna of an Indian climate. I have circled the premises once entirely and am now trying to find a way up. a large elephant swings his trunk over my head and back again; I try to grab it. However, it is smooth and I fall off every time. I know there's something else I need to find before I can climb the elephant.
Unfortunately, my failed attempts have set off a flood, which sweeps up all creatures in its path. I let it carry me along, aimlessly, until the waters have receded somewhat. I look around for a log or something to float with. Grabbing one, I tell my sister that it isn't floaty enough, we have to find something younger. I see a monkey floating by, trying to pull a large armored cart. It is not succeeding, and is pulled into a whirlpool. I lunge forward and try to save it as it goes under, but the monkey I come up with is only pulling a wicker basket, not a cart. I panic, those monkeys must be saved,
The jungle personnel clear the water away, and where the whirlpool was is a plastic bubble. Inside are the monkeys that were pulled under. I rejoice - this means we can save them - but the workers shake their heads sadly. They say they cannot save these monkeys; I do not understand. I frantically try to convince them that we can get the monkeys out before they run out of air, but the employees just stand there stonily. They say I saved one monkey, isn't that enough? I scream at them, no! but they gaze at me with their hard eyes and I see there is no hope.
I crouch in a corner, saddened and infuriated at the loss of life. I cannot tear my gaze away from the bubble as the monkeys run out of oxygen and slowly collapse.

The owner of the park is equally saddened by the loss. She says oftentimes she wishes the waters will not come, but then - she opens the front door and shows me the destroyed jungle, covered in a fine layer of snow - this happens, and she wishes she had not wished such things. I stand in her garage, trying to understand. She wraps her thin bathrobe sadly about her and turns to go back inside.

Don't Think Too Much

The beginning of a new semester. I have been placed in a drama class packed with stupid people, taught by (God help us) Mr. Bennet. Fed up with his inneffective teaching, I spy a blue mat that is slanted to provide a very nice slide. I crawl towards it, finding that the floor is slanted in tiers, like a very steep ramp, or an auditorium. I have difficulty making my way up it, elbowing people aside. They begin to follow me, seeing that the slide looks like fun.
Justin Prentice pokes his head out of a side door. He beckons to me, knowing that I want to get out of this place, away from these lemmings. I let them all pass me, then slip through the door.
It is an attic-like room. It is dusty and crowded with the sort of things people can't bear to give away, but can no longer keep in their living space. A rocking horse, faded photographs, old linens. Justin, Cynthia and I gather ourselves for a few minutes, then decide to slip out the window and away.
The window is narrow, but I slip out sideways and crouch unsteadily on the roof. Below is a guard, meant to keep the students confined. I bearwalk along the slanted roof to the opposite end, where the guard can no longer see me. I lower myself from the gutter, past a kitchen window, where I can hear the cooks chatting busily, and onto the ground. Sneaking over green grass and gravel roads, I head up the mountain.

Having found what I needed on top of the mountain, I fashion a bobsled out of a garbage can and slide back down, shooting past the camp where I was held captive (I hope Justin and Cynthia made it out) and into the forest.

I find myself in a sort of desert-designed cluster of bulidings, all concrete and whitewashed. Someone leads tours of the complex while the sun sets over a wasteland. We see the piping laid for an external shower system, or perhaps a watery playground. It looks like fun.
We enter a testing building, the inside of which is dusyy and dim. The decor is primitive - a dirt floor, crude wooden counters and shelves. Here, a myriad of rats are held in small cages. I was not there long, as I found it extremely cruel, but I remember that one very large and vicious white rat was put in a cage with a number of smaller, brown rats. It killed many of them, while sparing a choice few.

I head for the exit of the compound in disgust. A moon has risen in a dusky sky. The buildings are still lit with a rosy glow from the west. As I walk past the open door of a classroom, the professor calls me in. He says, "Miss, maybe you can help us solve these questions." I hesitate, as the symbols on the board mean absolutely nothing to me. But he seems adamant, so I seat myself, all thirty eyes of the class on me.
I set to work on the first problem, recognizing a few concepts from calculus, but soon I am stumped. He writes the second question on the board:

"Am I afraid of Industrialism? Or am I afraid of Priests?"

Priests came before industrialism, so obviously one is more scared of them. But that makes no sense.

I give up, confused and humiliated. I am not their calculus saviour. In the back of the class, I seat myself to the brother of an old friend of mine. He is now fat, smelly and creepy. He asks me invasive questions, I make my excuses and leave hurriedly.

Imagination

A fraternity was giving away free pizza on the 15th. I had already had a slice of cheese, so I went back for a second: cinnamon pecan.

I found Kris waiting at a bus stop, and he asked me to explain things, so I started talking. The 74 came and stopped; I wondered if he was going to get on. Then I figured he must have been waiting for the 71, 72, or 73, but he was standing on the wrong side of the street. Finally we got on the 74 and it turned around and took us over the University Bridge.

Then we were walking along a sort of cement tunnel on the east edge of Lake Union. It was very narrow, so Kris walked in front of me. The right side was open to the lake, which was actually just a vast blue expanse of water, and part of the path was submerged, so that every step I took with my right foot made a gentle splash. I talked the whole way trying to sort out a confusing series of events, and Kris just kept walking until we suddenly reached a graffitied wall. He stopped to suddenly that I nearly stepped off the path into the water, but when I looked down the water churned viciously, and it was clear enough that I could tell there was no bottom.

In the Burien Fred Meyer, my mom and I shop for food for our vacation. There are stacks of chocolate cake, and we try to pick out the best one for my dad's birthday.

I stand with Rebecca and Evan in a neutrally carpeted lobby, waiting for the schedule for the undergraduate research symposium to be posted. Rebecca and Evan move to the other side to see if a group of Acads know where to go, and meanwhile, a suited man with a nametag and radio comes up to me and ushers me through the nearest set of double doors and into a small auditorium, insisting that there is no late seating.
Annoyed that I might be missing other good presentations I sit on the left side, near the front. The lights dim and a curly-haired girl stands at a podium on the right side of the stage as a screen lowers behind her. The film starts, and all I know from the program is that her research had to do with psychological/emotional reactions to music. For about two minutes it plays a rapid series of film clips accompanied by music. I don't remember what they contained, but I remember mainly blue, some green and white, and the charge I felt from the music. I think I at one point I was laughing and crying for a reason I couldn't fathom. The film ends and the girl says, "Thank you". Everyone waits for her to say more about her results and conclusion, and finally the symposium official comes up and whispers to her, but she shakes her head and leaves the stage.

There is a pause while the next student sets up, and I turn around and see Evan and Rebecca sitting behind me. I ask if they felt the same thing, but lights start to dim. The next presentation is by a friendly Indian guy, on "Imagination". His film starts with a scene in a cobblestone alleyway with high stone walls on either side, and it quickly envelops me.
I am a young boy, sent by his guardians to start at a school on this street. I walk up to the gate of the correct address and pause. I know this is a test when I look to my right down the alley, and past a certain archway the scene shimmers and changes to a different street. I'm not scared, and I look through the gate and ring the bell. The scene past the gate shimmers and changes, and a wizard-like man appears about two feet in front of me. We stare at each other for a while, and finally he lets me in. Other boys in orange robes peer suspiciously out the the barred windows, and one sets a rosebush on fire right next to me.
The wizard leads me through a cold stone hallway, and up and wide, orange-lit winding staircase with very tiny steps. When we reach the top the stair continue, only tilted so that it formed a corrugated horizontal plane. (Like this: /\/\/\/\/\/\). I try to walk on it, but the wizard open a door that I already passed and motions me through.

At this point I recount everything that happened in my dream previous to meeting Kris, including the events I tried explaining to him, (none of which I remember now). Then I start over from the beginning of the "Imagination" sequence, narrating it myself, while trying to follow along as best I can in my actions.

"He approached the impressive stone building..." (I turn to the right and read the plaque in the doorway of the building.)
"...No, these architects didn't mark the date of construction of the building..."
(There is a long list of roman numerals on the plaque)
"They marked the time of the accident... when the workers drowned... to harness the power of water in the walls of the school..." (It's getting harder to make sense of my narration, and finally I figure out that I'm supposed to be contemplating the wizard school across the street. I let myself in the gate, hoping I won't have enough time to make up more nonsense narration, and enter the building. I realize as a walk though rooms that change that I am waking up, and it's harder for my conscious mind to make up scenarios that will be as interesting for my active dream self as my unconscious mind could.
The thing I remember as I contemplated this was standing in a room where one wall was made of tall, sharp-edged irregular stone pillars spaced about six inches apart. A violent blue light shone through the gaps, but there was a rock garden on the other side.
I finally figured out that this was the Indian guy's test of Imagination.

Behind-the-Scenes at Disneyland

I leave my mother in the café-urbanoutfitters, because her coffee is taking too long. Exiting through the sliding doors, I peruse the touristy street for other food options. Here is a hot dog and burrito stand. Across the street is a ritzy bistro with nothing under $13. On the corner I spy a lobster house, advertising their fantastic milkshakes.
None of these appeal to me, so I continue on, towards the museum. I pass though the backyards of several small houses, an apartment complex, and a church. I descend some stairs to an observatory. Inside, there are some plaques and some looking-glasses, but everything costs money to see. I exit again.
Going back up the stairs, I meet my mother and sister. We move onto a concrete platform to the water's edge. I climb the edge and stare out to sea, as do many other people. The ocean churns violently, crashing around the spiky rocks to splash those of us on the edge. I am tempted to dive into the water, but it is a diseased green-brown, and I know I will be dashed to pieces on the rocks.
Slightly out from shore, columns of rock rise from the sea, reminding me of the Statue of Liberty's crown, or the Rudolph movie's set. They form a nearly impenetrable wall between us and the open ocean, but beyond them I catch a short glimpse of a hugegreen, half-submerged statue of a woman. This is the spot that is so famous in this town, but I am pushed from the ledge before I can fully appreciate its beauty.

Later, we enter a bustling metropolis. Trying to reach the main shopping center, we find ourselves in a monstrous and empty Nordstrom. They are still working on taking down their christmas decorations. The building is very elegant, composed of high-arched ceilings, marble floors and pillars. We tramp down an echoing hallway to a room with a dark, wooden stage. Security here thinks we are coming to audition, and they press-gang us into a line of drama members. We escape through a dusty, dark white room, and hightail it back to where we parked our car. We speed onto the highway and try to figure out the best way around the mountain and home again.

Postmodernism Prevails

We are slaves to a strange man, tending his vegetable garden in a place that looks like my old house. A stream runs through the backyard. We move empty, infertile soil around in a pretense of work.

It is night, we have been called inside. I play pool with a very attractive man, he resembles Andrew the Waiter. I am not sure I am playing correctly.

We escape, dashing across the plot of land into the stream. One slave is sucked underground as he runs, but the rest of us make it safely to the water. The sky is red, perhaps signifying sunset.

We find ourselves at a carnival. I locate the French festivities and seat myself across from Spencer. We are handed several different cheeses and some sort of ham. We are told not to eat them right away, but we do. We are hungry. Behind Spencer I can see children cavorting on an inflatable trampoline.

We return to the house where our master lives, hoping to rescue our fellow that was trapped upon trying to leave. We circle the house quietly, but risk discovery as our ex-owner sits in his study, looking out the window. We leave.

As the others walk down the driveway, I change my mind and turn around. The slaver is actually my respected mentor in many things, and I think it is worth it to pay him a visit. I enter the house, make my way to the study and crawl underneath a table in order to better observe his activities. He turns around, and it is the Andrew the Waiter-like man. He espies me crouching underneath the furniture and coaxes me out gently.
He gives me a guitar and makes me sit in his lap and play for him, like a father. I notice he is slightly fatter and slightly less well-groomed. but when I mention this to him, he laughs and says that everyone changes. I feel small but safe and secure, like a child. We sing a song together.

Gasp! How Scandalous!

It is the family reunion. I am sitting at the table with my oldest cousins and my aunts and uncles. I am pleased that Katie and Bisbee remember me. I realize how much we all look alike simply because of our eyebrows and eyes.

I get up to get something and find myself on some sort of carnival ride, which is actually transportation to another part of town. I am very high up, and the fog pushes past as I whiz along the rails. I wonder why I am not cold, as I am wearing short sleeves.

I am deposited in a run-down area of Downtown San Francisco. Examining my surroundings, I see a squadron of Black-American policeman, advancing menacingly on me. I run for my life, around the corner of a large brick factory building and down the stairs to an iron-wrought door. I wrench open the door and run inside. The purpose of the small company seems to be to provide a bathroom if you are really desperate. I guess there weren't any others around. I dash past the elegantly decorated and nicely lit entry and lock myself into one of the spacious stalls. I decide to unlock it again, because if it's locked, it's obvious that there's someone inside. I can hear the guards slamming open the stall doors next to me, looking underneath for feet. I manage to crouch on the porcelain toilet, then I lose my balance and fall off. I think they have gone away, but when I open the door cautiously they are there. I slam the door in their faces, delaying them as they barge in. I throw a couple of punches, one's lip begins to bleed, but the two large men are able to overcome me. With a secure grip on me, they open the stall door to take me back to their squadron.
A clean-shaven young white man stands defiantly in their way. Between the two of us, we are able to take down both the policemen. Very relieved, I decide this man is now my boyfriend. He wants compensation for saving my ass, but I tell him not right now because Mister Fosberg is in the cubicle right next to ours. How embarrassing that would be! So we exit the bathroom (without paying for its use) and sit together on the back steps. I have grown very fond of him in a short time.

I stand on the same steps heartbroken, my family tries to comfort me. I think my boyfriend has been abducted. My father, in a sudden flash of inspiration, turns into a werewolf in order to track his scent. We set off down the block.
I notice that there is an abundance of small dogs in this city. Two chihuahuas take a liking to us, and begin helping us track down the missing person.

We find ourselves in an underwater dungeon. The search party splits up - I follow dripping pipes and grimy walls to a large room. The light is soft and ambient, such that the blue walls seem to glow. I feel like I am deep in the open ocean. In the middle of the room, a large black sphere spins slowly. There is an opening on one side. Near another entrance to the ocean room, my boyfriend is standing, transfixed. I am very glad to see him. Joining him, he tells me he thinks this is some sort of portal to another world. I decide the only way to find out is to try it, and together we dive through the opening. It is no portal, but the inside of the sphere is dark and embracing, like a womb or a nest. We decide it is an excellent place to give and receive compensation.

It was a perfect day

The temperature is just right, the air is clear, and the light is not too bright. Looking east to the Sound, the tide is out, and I feel perfect as I am. I wish I could go down to the water, but I have obligations, so I call Alex and tell him he needs to take a break and go down there.

-

I try to go to McCarty to pick up a key to my new home, but since I got there from my dorm, in a building a minute and a half to the southwest, I cannot obtain the key, because I don't live in that dorm anymore, I live in Fremont. I have to go somewhere else to pick up the key because the person I an trying to pick up the key from would only live in McCarty if I lived in the other dorm. I try and figure out where the person with the key lives now that I live in Fremont, or if they might be in a different place altogether since I am about to move.
I lose track of my thoughts when I run into a cluster of people standing in the way of the exit. Trying to go around them, I realize it is actually a line of people, extending down the hallway and all the way up the wide wooden stair. Actually, down every hallyway and up every staircase. A rythmic flashing catches my eye, and I understand that the building is filled with students standing in line for copy machines. Each one holds about three hundred pages, and must make copies of them before going to class.
I finally find my way out of the solid maze of students and out to a parking lot. On my way out I notice that one of the boys I am walking next to looks like Vinh from my tea class, but I can't tell for sure because I don't want to interrupt his conversation. Eventually I am almost sure it is Vinh, but he is ignoring me because I never got back to him about getting chai. He gets into a sportscar in the parking lot an I walk down the line of cars, looking for Kathryn's van. When I think I've found it I hesitate, debating whether it's really white now, but Kathryn's dad rolls down the window and sticks his head out. The other doors open and Kellen and Anna get out. Then Devin and Kathryn come over from a nearby car. Kathryn's dad says they've been waiting for me to start the summer programming class. They do this every summer in this parking lot, because it's too expensive to get a classroom. This makes me really nervous, because as much as I would like to take a class with everyone, I haven't taken math in two years, and Devin is already talking about algorithms.

I go back to my dormitory, which actually looks like my Fremont Studio (no wonder I was confused), and lay on the floor, looking through the bookcase. I pick out a book titled "SURPRISES!", thinking that maybe it's full of ideas for giving people really cool surprise parties. Instead, I am disappointed to see that it includes 10-12 illustrated summaries of historically surprising engineering feats.

In which I recover a lost child, encounter a devilish sea creature, and save the day again.

I find myself sitting in a restaurant booth on the wall of a large room. There is a stage at one end, and in the middle there is a large mossy rock. We appear to be attending some sort of social function, most likely to do with camp, as I recognize several leaders. I myself am one. There seems to be a lot of attention on me, so I think perhaps it is my birthday and we are celebrating.
Miss Amy announces the last party game. One of the small girls has found a golden box with some valuables in it. The first to retrieve the girl from the crowd of people in the center of the building wins. A horn blows, and I soon find myself in the middle of the crowd. I see the girl slipping towards where I was sitting minutes ago, and I make to follow her, but I find an obese woman in my way. I try to go around, but a balding man and his wife are standing, talking to some acquaintances. It seems that the crowd moves to block all but one way, leaving me with very little decision to make. I give up on finding the girl, and let the path guide me back to the edge of the game boundaries. On passing other booths, I stop to visit my sister and her friends, who are not playing. With them is the little girl that I was chasing, who I hadn't recognized as one of Kyra's groupies. She is much younger, four or five, and is wearing a puffy pink jacket. She smiles at me and I pick her up, depositing her on the stage as the game dissolves. I am announced the winner.
Sitting in my booth celebrating, some of Kyra's friends arrive with a camera. They get pictures of me glaring at them; of me squinting at a guy I think is a jerk but incredibly attractive. I hold my shirt out for them to take a picture of, but it comes out a black and red mass. I am disappointed.

The party seems to be over and the building has filled with water. I make sure that everyone else has made it out. Before I can row my dinghy out the front gate, I am stopped by a golden lizard-like creature with a grappling hook. Every time I make for the exit, he hooks it onto the edge of my boat and pulls me back. Time is of the essence, so I let him climb into my boat and I row us out of the building.
As we are rowing under a rocky overhang, we see a sort of inverse waterfall. It seems to be a mode of transportation to the top of the cliff. We jump into the waterfall and it deposits us wetly onto a thin patch of grass.
At the top of the hill there is a large mansion/castle/musuem. We see a large, evil-looking man leading his entourage up the drive to the building. In a clear briefcase he carries what appears to be a rare sort of octopus. My lizard friend becomes very agitated, insisting that we retrieve the octopus from the landlubbing fiend.
We follow the line of people at a discreet distance. When we reach the museum, we find the door wide open. We enter. The decor is very sanitary, flat gray, and there is nothing in the room but aquariums. We hear the man giving his party a tour of the building and follow his voive through the maze of his private collection.