The Hot Tub Dream (not as racy as it sounds, sorry)

Back in August 2006 I got an email from a fellow named Mustafa. He wanted to buy one of my domain names, MuslimCommerce.com. I own about 700 domain names and I sort of have a corner on many good generic Islamic names, like IslamicSearch.com, MuslimDesign.com, etc. Most of these domains are currently just parked at Sedo.com and bring in a small amount of daily revenue, but I'll be developing them one by one eventually.

We did not come to an agreement on price, but we stayed in touch. It seems that there are not too many Muslims who are seriously involved in the domain industry, so we were both happy to meet someone with whom to share ideas and tips. As it turns out, Mustafa has more experience than me in this industry and he's the one doing most of the sharing. He has invested heavily in premium domains, and he attends the main industry conferences, like the T.R.A.F.F.I.C conference in Las Vegas. I have benefitted tremendously from the advice and pointers he has given me, not to mention the dozen or so ebooks he has shared with me.

We've also gotten to know each other a little. I know that Mustafa lives in Canada, is Indian, is married and has a nine month old baby boy named Humza.

The other night I dreamed that I went to Mustafa's apartment in Canada, just to visit and chat. He had a spacious flat on an upper floor of a luxury apartment building. I knocked on the door but no one answered. I tried the door handle, and the door swung open. I walked into the apartment. It was plush, with dark shag carpeting and a huge picture window looking out over the city. I wandered around the apartment a bit until I discovered a sun room with an indoor hot tub. Not quite like the one in the picture, but close enough.

I thought, "I'm sure he won't mind if I try out the hot tub." So I turned it on, took off my clothes, and eased into the steaming water. It was really lovely, and I just relaxed in the tub and enjoyed the view through the window.

At some point I thought, "I'd better get going before Mustafa returns." So I got out, hurriedly changed back into my clothes, and headed for the door. At that moment, Mustafa walked in with his baby in his arms.

"Ummm," I said. "You weren't home so I let myself in, I hope you don't mind."

Mustafa stared at me blankly, then said, "Okayyyyyy..." He went past me and sat on the sofa.

I said, "Oh - and I used the hot tub too."

This time he tilted his head and gave me a baleful look. "Uh-huh."

"Umm, I could help you with your baby," I said. "Does he need to be fed?"

"No." He still did not look happy.

I nervously said good bye and let myself out.