The folks who live on the hill


I was transported to an ugly looking hotel in India after recognizing it briefly in a magazine, then started discussing the architecture and looking for someone. We (not sure who was with me) came across a sort of kid’s summer camp of adults in this part of the country, and several of them were leaving. A few of them I knew had secrets they were afraid of revealing, and I suspected one of them of being gay. After that, I rented a small apartment that used to be mine but now had another man and woman living in it, although they were not related to each other in any way. It was a strange kind of place, sort of a cylindrical bunker, with curtain lines hanging everywhere to separate the space into “rooms”. We decided to clean it up and make it nice, and as we were cleaning it up we noticed that there were bugs everywhere that needed to be exterminated. I kept noticing that as I would put my glass of lemonade down, all these little ants would gather around it quickly and I realized that because the drink was very sweet it was probably attracting them. I would move the glass and watch the ants follow it in a mini swarm. We were sleeping in these hammock-like things hanging from the ceiling and I was somewhat attracted to the man, with a small crush on him, and we kept holding hands but I wasn’t sure if he was into me or not. We kept planning the makeover for the place, and cleaning out and fixing up this small, weirdly shaped building which was at the end tip of a long island, very remote. And then I woke up.