I was in my strange dilapidated dream mansion. I went upstairs to the restroom. There was a short bridge walkway across tall hallway at the top of the stairs. The bridge had a moving sidewalk and no handrails. It looked dangerous. I pondered the reason for a moving walkway in this location. There were many rooms in this mansion that I have yet to visit. Who knows what waits in the other rooms.
I went downstairs to the basement. There appeared to be a lot of people there. I walked through the room and noticed that none of them was moving. Upon closer examination I realized that they were dead corpses that had been set in various poses. It was some kind of art display. I wanted to talk to the artist but he was hiding above the ceiling tiles and I couldn’t speak to him.
I left the room and came back later. The artist had come down from the ceiling and was turning off the lights. I said, “Dude. I like your art but you can’t keep them here.” The sickly sweet smell of embalming fluid and dying flesh was making me sick. Just as I finished my sentence, two FBI agents barged into the room holding their badges up. They arrested the artist.