we were in Vegas, inside some casino that was itself inside a shopping mall. The hotel was inside a shitty apartment building inside the casino, inside the mall. The rooms were furnished with other people's stuff and they were small and dirty.
Some woman showed up and said that our room was actually her room, and there was an argument. The room had several doors, each had a different room number on the outside. The tv was an old console tv with a small back and white tv crookedly placed inside it. On top of the small tv was an envelope with my name on it with a bible inside. It appeared to be some sort of book sharing setup.
When we complained, the Mexican drug looking hotel owner walked around the floor with me. There were many weird structural anomalies, nothing made sense. This stairwell went nowhere, this hallway returned you to another hallway, etc.
I came back to the room and had to poop. The bathroom looked just like my parents old bathroom but was old and dirty. There was rusty poop-looking water stains on everything, the walls, towels the floor. I accused my wife of making the mess, she got mad and said it wasn't her. Sitting on the couch, she was looking at a stack of polaroids and my mom came in and took them.
The room to our hotel opened into a shitty apartment kitchen, with a couple chubby smokers coughing in it. We had to pass through to get there, even though we had other doors.