We were in some kind of enormous complex that was possibly a city, and we were probably in the basement of the house on Long Avenue. There was a little animal like a fox or a dog that was helping us unravel some sort of conspiracy or history of something. Eric and I were wandering the streets and stairways for work. Not sure what we were doing exactly. One of our coworkers said he was moving to San Francisco, and I had the thing I always have in dreams where I long to live in California. Going to the beach seems like the most intensely meaningful experience in the world, although if I actually did it I probably wouldn’t appreciate it. Maybe when I die my spirit will go to the coast and it will be like when I was a kid again. The layers and layers of fear and self-hatred and humiliation will fall away until I can see things the way I used to.