I dreamt of a Sri Lankan man who designed himself a house with so many details he grew old by the time it was completed. He kept wandering about the hallways trying to find a bed to rest in, only the house was now like a labyrinth and he could perceive only a few of its endless details at any given moment. It made me think of Borges's writings, in fact I remember one about a man who was murdered in an impossible house. Do you still dream, /bant/?