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.

Swimming Academy

I dreamed that I joined a military swimming academy, perhaps something like the Navy SEALS. My sergeant was Tom Cruise, who I do think is a great filmmaker by the way, in spite of the wide contempt in which the public seems to hold him. But come on, you've got to admit that Vanilla Sky, Collateral and War of the Worlds were great pictures. And even his earlier films, like Jerrry McGuire and Rainman had value, portraying these arrogant, shallow characters who go through some transformative experience and are forced to become more humble.

Back to the swimming academy. The first day my sergeant (Tom) harangued me and singled me out for abuse because for some reason I did not have the proper haircut, and I did not have the sheet of instructions all the other recruits had. I was behind in my training and had not yet swum a single lap. I asked my bunkmate for help and he said, "Why should I help you, what do we have in common?"

"I don't know," I said, "Where are you from."

"Cincinnatti."

"Oh," I said, "I have a good friend in Cincinnatti." Which is not exactly true. Dr. Sayed's son Ayman was relocated to Cincinnatti by the company he works for, The Gap, and I have known him since he was a baby but we are not exactly friends.

I decided to forget all other considerations for now and just start swimming, but I discovered to my horror that I had not brought any swimming trunks. I went to find Tom Cruise. I said, "Sir, I know this is going to sound idiotic, but I don't have any trunks. Can I go buy a pair?" He shook his head and laughed and muttered something under his breath, then said, "Go ahead."

I figured I'd go by Supercuts to get the right haircut while I was at it, then maybe Taco Bell. I hurried to the barracks to get my wallet. When I opened my bag I spotted a pair of pink swimming trunks, that I now rememered bringing. I said to my bunkmate, "My swimming trunks are back!"

"Oh yeah," he said, "The captain borrowed a bunch of stuff for a skit. Your pink trunks were a riot."

What was I thinking, bringing pink trunks? I'd never hear the end of it. I'd better buy a new pair anyway.

Just then the barracks phone rang. "Hey recruit," someone shouted at me. "It's for you."

I picked up the receiver. A woman's voice declared, "I saw your website on TV."

"Who is this?" I said. "Someone of the female persuasion clearly, but I don't recognize your voice."

"Maymuna, of course," she replied. Which was odd since I have not seen her since she was six years old. "I've been watching this current events roundup show on cable, and your website Zawaj.com was mentioned three times."

"Yes," I said. "They have software that does that now."

"You know," she said. "Ismail is waiting for you to take him camping."

Aaaaaaah!