There was this old townhouse/Victorian style place squished between other buildings on the street. I noticed it changed from before, now they had a woman lashed to the outside panels for decoration. It was an alive woman too, and it made me worry a bit about going in, wondering if the woman was a slave. But I did go in and I met a guy there who was talking to me about men and their tailored clothes. He was this old guy talking about how I should always date a man who got his clothes tailored, the rest of them weren't worth it. I was supposed to go to a ball with a guy as a favor type thing which is how the conversation came up. I did see his point tho, and I even joke if men nowadays tailored their clothes I might not have switched to women. In the vision of men in tailored suits, the old kind with tails, it really looked to me the men were more attractive, almost feminine in body, with the tailored suits on. Although I don't know if that actually helped my case. I was in what would have been the sitting room of the house, arguing with a woman. Well it wasn't arguing, she was my boss? And ex or current girlfriend? Going to hire me? I can't recall but she had a lot of money. I mean a lot of money and she didn't seem to see it was important. In fact in order to do a job she wanted me to to she bought me these expensive electrionic things. I began ranting about it after she did though. I ranted about not having money for things and not having enough money for good things and how I didn't have, I read out this long list of grievous missing electronics from my life, ending with the fact I only had a Motorola silver flip phone and not a smart phone. Part of me was genuinely upset, just flabbergasted she could treat her wealth with such innocent indifference, but the desperate part of me was hoping she would buy me these things. It was actually angling for her to offer. Which made me feel guilty and bad: feeling like I was duplicitous. Later of course, in the kitchen of the house, which was a dining area where this long wooden table sat with benches and bearded burly dudes, I'm being shown concern by the matron pouring drinks and a few of her customers. I had decided to take this job, and it was perhaps morally wrong. I was supposed to write a book and someone else would publish it under their name. I would get a lot of money tho. My friends around me voiced much concern. They said it wasn't fair to me and wanted me to keep the job I had here , but I viewed it as at least I'd finished a book and got it published. And in the end I said I needed the money. I was drinking a stout beer the matron poured for me. She said she hadn't seen me in a while, to which I replied I'd stopped watching this show due to too much violence. I was drinking the beer she poured from a glass some of the time but when I put it to my lips it was a black bowl instead. It was a good beer, it tasted a lot like apple cider and there was always more foam, and I realized why people came to this house. It was a tavern, and it was warm and cozy and had this amazing atmosphere. There beer, I reasoned, didn't appear to be making me drunk but I did feel sudden comradery with the denizens of the place, and awfully fondly disposed toward it. A man who was concerned about me, an old friend I think, was preaching aboutt all the things which could go wrong if I took this job. We walked into the back rooms and I showed him my jobs family member sleeping in their rooms as if this was their mansion for a moment, I said it would be easy. I would write the book, create this wedding sculpture - which as part of the job - and be done with money in no time. I think he gave he gave up. We ended up chatting about the house and he joked, because there was only two ways out of the back rooms each through a secret passageway in a fireplace, that it was like being stuck in Christianity. I laughed and frowned asking what he meant, he said, "You know, because they think the matrix is evil and everything." And then i agreed with him, understanding perfectly what he meant, it was a metaphor for a state of mind/ paradigm sorta thing. But the fireplace secret door he was trying to open suddenly didn't want to work, and he then cracked a joke about that. I went to the other one but it wasn't working properly either, it opened but you couldn't go through, bricks were in the way. I realized the mechanism was misbehaving and when he came over I told him Daniel was the problem. He opened a panel on the side of the fireplace and pulled out two burnt and quashed basketballs. He was suddenly destressed with nostalgia. Daniel had been a boy who had died. His son perhaps. Suddenly behind me I noticed a white rabbit and it was sweet and soft and came up to me. I was completely distracted from the fireplace and went to sit with the bunny feeling a bit holy about petting it. I knew it was my ex's bunny, left here for some reason. I told the guy that if the bunny was here I might be here a lot more. It realized we were on a second story and it was soft and quiet and peaceful just petting the bunny, my mind conjured up images of utter peace and no one bothering me. The guy said I was welcome anytime, and it seemed I was much happier about my job, since it didn't require me to do anything it seemed. Suddenly the bunny went into labor. It was in pain and went through all the contractions and i thought it was going to give birth but it didnt. I held it and petted it softly, realizing the pain of the false alarm was making it upset. Then it's water broke and it began labor for real. I helped as much as i could, but finally at the end it was so tired and hurting from pain of going through the contractions of labor twice it passed out. I held it and begged it not to die, and it kept breathing so I was reassured, but not by much.