I managed to recall a dream I had last night -- a rambling adventure in a subterranean world of endless clutter, dark hallways and discarded cultural ephemera. A strange circus-like atmosphere pervaded despite the almost total lack of characters; I felt as if I had entered a world that had quietly succumbed to its own history, content to while away its final years in a state of seedy, uncompromised entropy.

This milieu seems to have taken the place of the vast, vaguely futuristic shopping malls that I've dreamed about for years. The density of information is actually startling, like going from a dial-up Net connection to broadband. It's like I've suddenly tapped into the Sargasso of the collective unconscious, free to peruse the sodden exhibits.