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the justified ancients of mumu dream

I just woke up from a dream in which I was infiltrating the Justified Ancients of Mumu. They were about their regular work, putting on experimental art shows in abandoned units off the side of recently set-up experiential science exploratoriums for children. I purchased a ticked from the Science Volunteer on the door.

"I know this sounds funny but is there any way you could take a child in with you?" she said, "It's just there's very limited space inside."
"It's OK," I said, "I know what I want to see. I'll go in, boom and done - like a surgical strike."

I stepped into the gloom. Already there were purple ponchos drifting about. But something had occurred to me. I popped my head back round the door. "Or you could give my plus-one to someone with a plus-two," I said to the Science Volunteer, miming a woman wrangling two children.

I trailed a purple poncho through a side door. Although the ponchos were supposed to be a leveller, erasing identity and status through the adoption of a common garb, they had instantly diversified. Some had comfortable, well-fitting ponchos which tidily shadowed the face and shrouded the form; officials of Mumu. Some were made of sweet fabrics and decorated with sequins; financing the gig, or art-scene accelerators. Then there were a lot shrugging into simple tacked-up stage-cloth ponchos, laughing and joking - roadies and art students, rolling cables and staplegunning protest to the walls. The stages and artworks were in busy set-up. It looked like fun. But I was on a mission.

I don't actually know who the enemy is, as the dream is operating on a need-to-know basis, and I don't need to know. Earlier scenes have suggested that it may be the Neo-liberal Techno-assimilatory elite; something about the unnecessary smoothness and elaboration of their weapons, and the way they always come from unexpected directions when they're trying to kill you.

What I need to know is that there is an operational machine gun waiting for me in a roof-height sculpture made of fused and melted weapons, covered in graffiti, and ammunition behind the toilet in an unused upstairs bathroom (accessed via the orange stairs). Further instructions will follow.

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All of which suggests that the Drummond Dream Cannon (Patent Pending) is already operational.