Batch

10-06-2015 -- I'm trying to park my car (probably the silver Lexus) next to a house which seems to be the house Uncle Jim used to live in. Like most times in dreams, the driving doesn't go smoothly. I can't work the brakes properly, it doesn't back up right, and no matter how I try, I can't get the car nicely next to the curb, like I'm trying to do.

Soon I find myself standing next to the car, looking at the house, which I have now bought or in some other manner acquired. I've got lots of my stuff with me, including book cases, and bags of comics, and old Hornet newspapers with my articles in them, and lots of other cool stuff. I'm trying to gather up a couple of arm-fulls of the stuff to take inside, when a fairly young kid comes walking up, and starts to gather some of the stuff. He looks like he's probably somewhere between 9 & 12 years old.

At first I think he is trying to steal my stuff, and am about to chase him off, but then I realize he just wants to help me move in. And while that's nice, I am afraid it would be too much for him, and he'd probably hurt himself or something, so I thank him for the offer of help, but turn him down. He walks a couple of doors down, and joins his own family, who it seems are also moving it.

At first it seems like they are moving in to nothing, but as I watch, their house starts to kind of push aside the houses on either side to put itself out there, kind of like the Harry Potter books sometimes describe the Fidelus. I realize these folks are magical, and think I probably should have let the kid help. If he's magical, he could have probably handled it. I decide to go over and say hi, but as I approach the door everybody steps inside, so I (slightly rudely, I'll admit) just follow them inside, waiting for a chance to introduce myself.

I'm kind of shocked to discover that my new neighbors are Santa Claus (red suit, long white beard, and all) and his kind of large, young, fairly hip family. I introduce myself, and explain that I used to be a muggle, but somehow I could see his house pushing it's way between the other houses. I tell him his son offered to help me move in, since I was all by myself, but I'd turned him down because I figured he wouldn't really be able to help ... but with magic, I'd be appreciative of the help, if the offer still stands.

Santa asks me what I have to move, and I kind of talk my stuff down, referring to it as a bunch of old books and old newspapers and such, but then I am quick to mention that they are old newspapers that have stuff I wrote in them, so it doesn't sound like I am a complete idiot hoarder or something. Santa says he understands, and points to a stack of newspapers in a cupboard underneath his coffee table, which also has old papers ... though his are papers with articles written about him, instead of by him.

After that, he admits that he already knew what I had to move ... that they had been watching me. They knew I was a decent fellow, and a nice guy, which is why they allowed me to see the magic. Santa's wife also starts talking, saying hello, but she is soon turning into one of the Adventurers Club performers that I didn't know well, since they came around after I'd quit going to the Club quite so much. Probably Megan M. Or Andrea C. [Both of whom I have seen mentioned in Facebook posts in the last two days.]

Things are shifting to a sort of Adventurers Club reunion, and Graham is holding a somewhat worn and ratty looking old pillow. Someone is asking him if he is going to throw it away or something, but he says he can't ... he says his wife wants it, and plans to sleep with it between her thighs at times when he is not available or something like that, and all the guys are drooling at the thought.

But soon things are shifting again, and I find myself talking to one of the above mentioned female Club members, but she isn't Santa's wife, but his real estate agent, and she works for a kind of a cross between a Realtor and the mob. There are a couple of tough thugs around to make sure nobody hurts anyone or anything here, and I'm trying to question the lady on any problems she may have with Santa. Meanwhile, a gangster's moll is sitting at a desk, wearing nice clothes, but with her legs partly spread to give folks a nice bit of an upskirt glimpse of her stockings and underwear.