Douglas Coupland wrote my dream.

me as a behbehRe-occuring Douglas Coupland-esque dream. I live in a shopping mall, still functional but not very busy, with lots of empty space. Like Tinseltown. In some dreams my dwelling is in a junk jewelry store like Claires, sometimes it’s in one of those dead space areas: between the food court, washrooms, and maintenance. I’m furnishing the space with second hand and giveaway furniture; usually someone is helping my collect it from newspaper ads and back alleys.Several friends have played this role on separate occasions. Last night it was my dad.

He had a big 70’s wood paneled station wagon, and we were driving around town with the buy and sell. We found a desk that looked just like one he had when I was a kid. I used to hide under it. Last thing I remember was marveling at all the stuff we’d been able to fit in that wagon.

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