A Million Dollars a Yard

[This is part of a convoluted dream I had several months ago. I think I wrote down most of it immediately after I woke up, but cannot find that piece of paper now.]

I am walking in a huge mall with my companion, an Asiatic gent of the Donald Trump type.
He guides me to a giant greenhouse-like hall, which is hot and steamy.
On the one side are sheds with giant stoves and kettles separated by a stone walkway from a continuous basin filled with thick hot blackish gray-brown mud.
I hear voices jokingly calling: "There's the boss-man, fire up the ovens!", and immediately, a roar resounds and it gets sensibly hotter inside.
When my eyes get accustomed, I see many massive black men and women bathing in the mud and obviously enjoying it.
They all slowly move towards the end of the hall. Their movements get slower and slower, they stuff their mouths with big bites of mud, mix it with some vivid colors and rub it on their arms and upper bodies.
At the T end of the hall, they first turn right, where one by one they completely submerge in the steaming mud, and some take off the walls and put on head-dresses as in some Caribbean carnivals.
Their motions become slower and slower and they look drugged as they drag themselves to the left end of the T. There they deliberately join their stoned predecessors, assume heroic and gigantic poses and with obvious effort pulling their facial features into happy smiles.

They then slowly freeze and petrify forming a long integrated chain of statues.

"A Million Dollars A Yard", boasts my host.