Paring Knives & Small Grow Ops

The bookstore has moved to a new location. It's an older house that is HUGE. There are so many rooms in it - it's dim, and kind of funky, with neat paint colours, and hardwood floors. There is a big room at the back for the staff, with a coat closet & a shoe rack. There's a lot of work that needs to be done around the place, and I'm walking around in awe, trying to figure out where I want to start. As I walk around the house, it stops being the bookstore, and starts being someone's house.

This guy I know in real life, D., who has one ball, has made a random appearance in my dreamland. It's his place, and I can't imagine how on earth he could afford it, as he's a bit of a bum in real life. He's showing me around, and offers me a beer. I decline, as I have to drive home in a little bit, and told him that I didn't want to catch a buzz before then. He'd already started taking one out of the fridge, and shoves it back in - there is a beer lying on its side that is already open, and it sloshes into the fridge. He leads me through a big, dumpy, open & empty livingroom. It has a big laundry sink against one wall, and I look closely at it - it's a tiny little grow op underneath a white sheet - probably only one or two plants. He sees me looking at it, and says, "You didn't see anything." I slap his butt, and assure him that I know how to keep a secret (In real life, I know of a helluva lot of grow ops, and have never mentioned anything specific about who/where/when in my entire life... I am not a squealer) I tell him that I prefer the huge grow ops to the little house ones.

We're out in the yard, which seems to stretch on forever. He has a large german shepherd that he calls to him, and while it's running towards us at top speeds, I feel a little afraid. It's friendly enough, and is shedding all over the lawn. I ask him how much he paid for the place, and that's when I figure out that he's squatting. It's an old grow op, and he's moved in to make use of it. This makes more sense to me, but feels sketchy, as I'm sure the people that really do own the grow op don't want some heatscore in there.

We get back inside, and there are more people in there. There's a guy who offers me a beer, and I decline. He offers to show me downstairs, and I do - I start following him downstairs, and he says something shitty to me. I lip something back at him, and he grabs me by the chest/throat and pushes me to a sitting position on the stairs. I don't fight, just go limp, and tell him that I didn't mean anything by it. Then I say something lippy anyways. He whips a knife out of his jacket pocket, and it cuts my cheek as he pushes it closer to my neck. A girl walks in, and starts going up the stairs, totally oblivious to what is happening to me. She's wearing a big ski jacket, and has blonde hair. I wheeze out, "Help! Help me!" but she pays no mind as she disappears up the stairs. Some guys grab her at the top, and start hitting her in the face.

This was the wrong house to come to.

I have escaped, and a bunch of angry women are outside picketing the house. We are banded together, young, hip with good hair, screaming crap & holding signs. We scare people away from going into the house, and spit on a girl who is being on-purpose provocative in front of our angry signs/demonstration. There is someone on a bmx crusing around amongst our group.

I wake up.