I'm still a little foggy this morning, recovering from a very weird dream.  Shall I make the standard attempt to explain that only makes it seem even weirder and less logical?  I believe I shall.  This blog's prime directive is to entertain, after all.  Here goes:

    I discovered some odd wax museum/ house of horrors/ curiosity shop that was all boarded up but had many fascinating things in the windows... some gypsy-man that reminded me of Zoltar from the movie "Big" (http://www.zoltarmachine.com/)... and other oddities.  It was all alone at the top of a hill, so I had to go back to wherever it was I came from to get my family to come see it.  By the time I rounded up my kids, my husband, my mom, stepdad, brother, sister, in-laws, and an aunt with whom I used to be very close but now almost never see-- well, it had gotten pretty dark, which is never a good sign in dreams like these.  It was very damp outside and the hill was difficult to climb, but when we arrived the place was lit up-- but in that way where it still looks dark and creepy inside.  There was a very long line up to what I know saw was a ticket counter by the front door.  All my family got in line.  As we got close, I saw that it was very expensive to be admitted.  For some reason that-- and not the foreboding nature of the place in general-- became my primary concern.  I felt that since the place had been boarded up that very same day there must be some sort of scam going on.  My aunt, however insisted on buying her ticket and going in.  The rest of the family was focused on Ladybug, semi-wrestling over who was going to get to carry her while touring this place (I think my husband's stepmom was winning).  They ignored my protests and continued to move forward in line.      
    I had Baby Duck by the hand, so I decided to take her back down the hill to the inn we were apparently staying in.  After getting about a hundred yards away from the creepy whatever-it-was that was charging admission, I discovered that the path back down the hill was completely flooded out.  Not with a couple of inches of rushing water, but with giant murky pools of unknown depths.  Occasionally I could see grass poking up, so I encouraged Baby Duck to follow the exact path I showed her.  She was having none of that silly listening business and immediately ran straight into the water.  She then proceeded to freak out over being wet and muddy and possibly drowning.  I managed to get ahold of her by the scruff of her neck to pull her out.  We made it down the hill back to the inn, only to find it completely deserted and devoid of even furniture.  It looked to have been abandoned for at least a decade.  I then somehow became strangely upset with my husband for having to stay in so many small town hotels, even though I had no indication that he had anything to do with my current predicament.  I don't know what he had to do with it, or what my fate was, because I woke up at that point.

     I'm kind of weirded out by my own creepy brain right now, so now you are all stuck with these strange images from my slumber.  What brand of crazy do you think I am?  Comments are welcome...

CL