in the dream

 we beat it from the covert chinese secret police who were dismantling the tent on the roof of the mall for the carwash deniers protest where we took their accordion apparatus..
 later i was trapped in their headquarters saying something in a mantra-like fashion, i was barely boxed in, some sheets of drywall were propped over the door.. the place was empty, in a twilight of meaning, i kept saying see-crett shy-knees po-leeazz.. then there's a shadow fight, all the various sides of the problem are fighting, but it's all shadows, then i'm with some woman as she is getting dressed. at first i think her mons veneris is freakishly large, then realize she has a head there too. she finishes dressing. we meet with the rockabilly duchamp memorabilia dealer in the tinest little tea shop imaginable. it's like being at a little girl's teaparty, and trying to buy an illegal illuminated urinal, if you know what i mean. the guy looks like butch patrick all grown up, but something slightly slanted about the eyes. wears a little mad hatter lapel pin. cheap disney trash. i love that..