My family and I have recently bought an enormous house with cathedral-sized ceilings in a fairly trendy suburban neighborhood. The house, however, is made of a flimsy, grayish-blue wood material and is supported by four stilts, much like an ocean or riverfront home would be.
I am sitting in the backyard by the pool, which, for some reason, is shaped like a guitar. I happen to gaze out over our fence and notice that our neighbor, an elderly southern gentleman, is lighting the fuse of some sort of gigantic rocket-shaped explosive in his backyard.
Startled by this, I immediately shriek and run into the house. On my way up the stairs, I realize that this house is equipped with a towering stereo system which touches the ceiling. My father is standing by the stereo and yells something to the effect of "How's it look? All the neighbors have one!"
I reach my room and open the door. Upon entering, I am greeted by a guy I knew in junior high school, Richard. He is baking pizza in what appears to be an Easy-Bake oven. He asks me to join him in eating the pizza. I accept his offer out of politeness. I notice, much to my chagrin, that the pizza is topped with oysters.
I am now perusing the electronics department of a large store, apparently a Wal-Mart or a K-Mart. I slip a cuckoo clock (yes, a cuckoo clock) under my jacket and keep walking. I notice that in the background, music is playing. It's "She Talks to Angels" by the Black Crowes.
I wake up and discover that I have left the radio on by my bed, the probable explanation for the aforementioned music.