top of page
Curiosity Cabinet
Welcome to our cabinet of curiosities. Here you'll find a random hodgepodge of interesting, gnarly, and strangely needful things. Curios, books, and other wonders aesthetically tangential to the Daydream Misfit universe. Basically, shit we liked and hope you'll like too.
As an affiliate, I earn a commission when you purchase items through Amazon links.
![The Ghosts of My Friends / Arranged by Cecil Henland (1915) [Leather Bound]
Reprinted in 2022 with the help of original edition.](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/c2d0fd_3809fa0519974f8994779c35e60675ae~mv2.jpg/v1/fill/w_313,h_313,q_75,enc_avif,quality_auto/c2d0fd_3809fa0519974f8994779c35e60675ae~mv2.jpg)
The Ghosts of My Friends
This haunting book / parlor game from the Edwardian era (early 1900s) appealed to the growing interest in spiritualism. Participants would fold a page, then unfold and sign along the crease with India ink. Upon refolding, the resulting inkblot would create a ghost or spirit, anticipating the Rorschach tests of later years. The book's owner would end up with a collection of unique signatures from his or her associates: "The Ghosts of My Friends." Original copies can cost hundreds or thousands of dollars, but the book was reprinted leather-bound in the 2000s and awaits the imprint of your closest friends at your next soiree.

Dreamworld: Surrealism at 100
A century of surrealist imagination sparked by André Breton’s 1924 Manifesto of Surrealism, a text that reshaped modern art, literature, and ideas about consciousness itself. Dreamworld: Surrealism at 100, written by Matthew Affron, the volume traces how surrealist artists used dream imagery, symbolism, chance, and psychological tension to challenge ordinary reality and unlock new forms of perception.
Spanning the 1920s through the late 1960s, the book follows Surrealism beyond Paris into creative centers such as New York City and Mexico City during and after the Second World War. Richly illustrated across multiple media, it features works by major figures including Leonora Carrington, Max Ernst, Dorothea Tanning, Remedios Varo, Salvador Dalí, and many others whose work blurred the boundaries between dream and waking life.
Published in conjunction with the centennial exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, this volume serves as both visual archive and exploration of Surrealism’s enduring influence on modern culture.
Spanning the 1920s through the late 1960s, the book follows Surrealism beyond Paris into creative centers such as New York City and Mexico City during and after the Second World War. Richly illustrated across multiple media, it features works by major figures including Leonora Carrington, Max Ernst, Dorothea Tanning, Remedios Varo, Salvador Dalí, and many others whose work blurred the boundaries between dream and waking life.
Published in conjunction with the centennial exhibition at the Philadelphia Museum of Art, this volume serves as both visual archive and exploration of Surrealism’s enduring influence on modern culture.

Nebula Dream Projector
I realized I was dandelion fluff floating through the vastness of the cosmos. Over the aeons, I was swayed by strange gravity from distant bodies. My thoughts became bigger than me, and I flirted with strange suns. I was wafted by cosmic whispers which encouraged new trajectories. After centuries alone with my soul, I came upon a membrane of light and music which lifted me in an upward spiral of joy, as if I were swept up in a swirling vortex of completeness. My spirit connected with the radiance of ancient truth, and I was transformed to something more of All and less of Self, forever to bask in the warmth of belonging in a universe of love.

Osteomancy Bone Casting Kit
Jes' set yourself down, bébé. Make yourself easy now. Rest dem bones. Heh heh... yeah, I said it.
Now breathe deep fo' me. Slow like the river at midnight. Clear out all dat noise rattlin' round yo' head. Don' come vexed to the bones, no no. Dey don't like a troubled spirit.
Dat's it now. Focus on what brought you here tonight.
Reach yo' hand down in dat bag. Go on. Feel dem bones. Feel de sharp edges, de smooth places, de little stories hidin' in de cracks. Mm-hmm. Dey talkin' already.
Now pull 'em slow, cher. Slow.
Cast dem right here on Mama's table.
Watch how dey tumble... watch how dey dance... spin-spin-spinnin' like ghosts in de Quarter.
Ohhh, honey chile...
Dese bones speakin' loud tonight.
Mm-mm-mm.
I ain't never seen a cast like dis in all my born days.
De bones say...
de bones say...
you got bones in yo' future.
Now breathe deep fo' me. Slow like the river at midnight. Clear out all dat noise rattlin' round yo' head. Don' come vexed to the bones, no no. Dey don't like a troubled spirit.
Dat's it now. Focus on what brought you here tonight.
Reach yo' hand down in dat bag. Go on. Feel dem bones. Feel de sharp edges, de smooth places, de little stories hidin' in de cracks. Mm-hmm. Dey talkin' already.
Now pull 'em slow, cher. Slow.
Cast dem right here on Mama's table.
Watch how dey tumble... watch how dey dance... spin-spin-spinnin' like ghosts in de Quarter.
Ohhh, honey chile...
Dese bones speakin' loud tonight.
Mm-mm-mm.
I ain't never seen a cast like dis in all my born days.
De bones say...
de bones say...
you got bones in yo' future.

Sleeveless Backless
I sank into the sweetly-scented upholstery of my favorite chair, consumed in a cloak of cigar smoke and opium, like swimming in the folds of a familiar lover. The library was dark and dim except for the Tiffany lamp to my right and a small candle near the door, which cast shadows that played along the covers of thousands of leather-bound tomes. My housecoat blanketed me from the draft which seeped through the window.
I was conscious but hadn't moved in hours, the effects of the drugs prescribed to ward off the night sweats and biliousness. My copy of The Great God Pan lay on my lap, with several pages turned since the bookmark, but I could not remember reading any of them. Outside, a child's cries, a slammed door, then silence.
From the corner of my eye, I spied the heavy oak library door open slightly, then fully ajar, with only darkness behind. To my astonishment, I saw a thin black dress float through the doorway and into the library, unsupported by a human form! Unable to move, I could only watch in terror as it swayed gently across the floor.
The ghostly dress began to dance to some unheard music as it drifted closer, fluidly shifting its shape and striking provocative poses. I thought I must be mad. I considered that the chloral hydrate must be tainted with some impurity which caused visions. Or that I had inhaled some malicious miasma and was far more unwell than I had known.
Half-crazed with fear, I thought to myself, "The flowing silhouette creates a sleek, elongated look that flatters a variety of body types. A sleeveless cut allows for easy movement and breathable comfort, while the relaxed fit through the waist and hips makes it ideal for everyday wear."
The dress continued its seductive saunter across my library floor. As it passed my desk, it upset a bottle of ink, which tipped on its side and spread like the blood of a wounded animal across my letters. What manner of harm did this infernal spirit mean to inflict on an innocent, well-respected, and reputable man?
With some strange mercy, the mysterious specter passed by me, undulating still, mere feet from where I lay, helpless. Perhaps in my stillness I was beyond its notice. Or perhaps it had motives forever beyond the comprehension of a human mind. All at once, I understood the apparition's intended destination.
The empty dress slowly rocked and weaved its way towards the window. Having no limbs with which to open the portal, it gently but determinedly pried at the bottom with cloth tendrils until it managed to open a gap of perhaps an inch or two. Then, like some boneless creature from the blackness of the bottom of the sea, it began to slither through the small gap and into the outside air.
As it did, I called in a whispered voice, cracking with madness, "This backless cami dress combines casual comfort with a soft, elegant style perfect for lounging indoors or warm summer days."
I could see the dress through the windowpanes, gliding over the rooftops and the black birds, silently spiraling towards the moon.
I was conscious but hadn't moved in hours, the effects of the drugs prescribed to ward off the night sweats and biliousness. My copy of The Great God Pan lay on my lap, with several pages turned since the bookmark, but I could not remember reading any of them. Outside, a child's cries, a slammed door, then silence.
From the corner of my eye, I spied the heavy oak library door open slightly, then fully ajar, with only darkness behind. To my astonishment, I saw a thin black dress float through the doorway and into the library, unsupported by a human form! Unable to move, I could only watch in terror as it swayed gently across the floor.
The ghostly dress began to dance to some unheard music as it drifted closer, fluidly shifting its shape and striking provocative poses. I thought I must be mad. I considered that the chloral hydrate must be tainted with some impurity which caused visions. Or that I had inhaled some malicious miasma and was far more unwell than I had known.
Half-crazed with fear, I thought to myself, "The flowing silhouette creates a sleek, elongated look that flatters a variety of body types. A sleeveless cut allows for easy movement and breathable comfort, while the relaxed fit through the waist and hips makes it ideal for everyday wear."
The dress continued its seductive saunter across my library floor. As it passed my desk, it upset a bottle of ink, which tipped on its side and spread like the blood of a wounded animal across my letters. What manner of harm did this infernal spirit mean to inflict on an innocent, well-respected, and reputable man?
With some strange mercy, the mysterious specter passed by me, undulating still, mere feet from where I lay, helpless. Perhaps in my stillness I was beyond its notice. Or perhaps it had motives forever beyond the comprehension of a human mind. All at once, I understood the apparition's intended destination.
The empty dress slowly rocked and weaved its way towards the window. Having no limbs with which to open the portal, it gently but determinedly pried at the bottom with cloth tendrils until it managed to open a gap of perhaps an inch or two. Then, like some boneless creature from the blackness of the bottom of the sea, it began to slither through the small gap and into the outside air.
As it did, I called in a whispered voice, cracking with madness, "This backless cami dress combines casual comfort with a soft, elegant style perfect for lounging indoors or warm summer days."
I could see the dress through the windowpanes, gliding over the rooftops and the black birds, silently spiraling towards the moon.

Wax Seal Starter Kit
Complete Wax Seal Starter Kit — ready-to-use set with everything needed to begin sealing letters and creative projects. Includes 200 wax beads in 10 colors, 3 interchangeable brass stamp heads, 6 sealing candles, 5 envelopes, a wooden-handled seal stamp, wax warmer, non-stick melting spoon, and a metallic detail pen. Designed for personal correspondence, DIY crafts, invitations, journaling, and decorative finishing touches, this all-in-one kit makes it easy to add a tactile, handcrafted feel to any project without additional purchases.
This product bears no relation to the 2005 movie remake of House of Wax starring Paris Hilton. When my girlfriend and I watched that film, I was working out in my apartment, and she was in bed at her place, and we did a video call and synced the movie on Netflix and watched the movie together over the course of a couple of days. We kept waiting for Paris Hilton's character to die so we could watch Paris Hilton die, but she just lived and lived. Finally, after an excruciating 90 minutes, the killer caught up with her and stabbed her in the bare foot with a large knife. Paris hid behind a car, but when she peeked up, the villain threw a spear through both car windows and into her head. She rocked back against a chain-link fence, and the rebound made her body fall forward and push the pole further through her skull as it pressed into the ground until she came to rest like some sort of socialite unicorn jabbing the ground with her horn. And that was that. We were satisfied. Anyway, I don't think this is the same kind of wax as in that movie.
This product bears no relation to the 2005 movie remake of House of Wax starring Paris Hilton. When my girlfriend and I watched that film, I was working out in my apartment, and she was in bed at her place, and we did a video call and synced the movie on Netflix and watched the movie together over the course of a couple of days. We kept waiting for Paris Hilton's character to die so we could watch Paris Hilton die, but she just lived and lived. Finally, after an excruciating 90 minutes, the killer caught up with her and stabbed her in the bare foot with a large knife. Paris hid behind a car, but when she peeked up, the villain threw a spear through both car windows and into her head. She rocked back against a chain-link fence, and the rebound made her body fall forward and push the pole further through her skull as it pressed into the ground until she came to rest like some sort of socialite unicorn jabbing the ground with her horn. And that was that. We were satisfied. Anyway, I don't think this is the same kind of wax as in that movie.
bottom of page