(Dream from January 11, 2005)
I was in some sort of big old building. It looked like a cross between a big museum and an old dusty warehouse--big windows, dusty glass. Everything was either grey and dusty or dull and rusty. The floors were made of that really strange material that you only find in city government buildings constructed in the 70s or in Korean high schools built in the 80s--polished slabs of cement fruit-cake; bits of (relatively colorful) gravel seemingly caught in grey mineral suet. Through the windows you could see an equally colorless cityscape. Grey day. Grey buildings overlapping; looking somehow two-dimensional. "The color of television static."
In my dream, I was a tour guide in this building, and I was leading my tour group down the stairs. The roof over the stairs (or was it a skylight?) was in really bad shape, though, and it had recently rained, so there were these huge puddles on the stairs. and in the puddles, reflections...
But the puddles didn't reflect the dim building, the grey city, the featureless skies, my silent and anonymous tour group. They reflected some impossible night sky; black as the soul of satan, vast as time; studded with geometric points of blinding white light--and in one corner, a huge crescent moon stretching across almost a quarter of the sky like the grin of some cosmic shark. | 
