The Newspaper Dream.

Me and my friends are walking through brush and gravel at the end of town where no buildings are. We find a torn-up old newspaper. It reads to be reporting something about the Korean War. Realizing the value of this, i need to get it into better shape. I go back way in time. The town is much less developed, much smaller. The place is dream-like, everything is either black and white or sepia-tone. The air is thick and dusty. It is the early 1900s. There is low visibility, and beyond the town is a tannish white of old nothingness. There is hardly anyone in this town, there is no noise. Once i find and obtain the same newspaper, which even then is still a bit shredded at points, a man working with the press, well-dressed with a hat, black and white, vaguely representing Theodore Roosevelt or Harry S. Truman, drives me in an old, shiny black car through dark gravel, parallel to an old train track, leading to white nothingness, to a white house. When we enter, it is an old post office or press building, with newspapers, old phones, one desk-worker and small rooms are. I am either now working for them or simply visiting. I get back to the colorful present and successfully obtain the value for the historically significant artifact.