I'm Lauren Norton, and this is one strange thing, the show where we search the nation's news archives for stories that can't quite be explained. If we asked you to describe your dream house, what image would you conjure?

Would it be a McMansion straight from the depths of Zillow?

Or Barbie's tricked out pink abode with the branded elevator and the ever-ready jacuzzi.

Or a white picket fence, a well-manicured lawn, nestled against a brick home with the appropriate seasonal decor and plenty of signage to let everyone know when it's appropriate to live, laugh,

and love. Or, the kind of place you imagined as a child, during those ill-fated games of mash,

which were always rigged, by the way, and we're suspicious of children who can fold paper so expertly,

but when you were a normal child, the house you'd imagine was filled with all the things

you hoped adulthood would bring.

Giant TVs.

Inless cereal, the good kind, with lots of sugar.

A game room set up with Xboxes and Playstations and not a grimy foosball table.

A refrigerator, but the fancy kind, with an ice maker on the front.

Endless bean bags.

Tip, top, luxury.

Or, maybe you were a little different. Maybe you climbed as high as you could

into the tallest tree you could find and wondered about what it would be like to build a home in its branches.

Maybe you thought about carving a place for yourself on a lonely mountain top.

Maybe you sat on the beach, building sandcastle after sandcastle, and watching the tide come in to pull them away.

Maybe you imagined a future when they could stay.

There are some people who hold on to those notions.

The eccentrics who seem to pop up, if not in most towns, at least in most states.

Nearly every corner of the United States has a building that is the result of a dreamer's greatest dream, an imagination that refused to quit, an architectural love song to unbridled

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