I dreamed of strange disjointed scenes all connected by the thread of a darkened squared-off staircase, similar to the one that used to be in my grandparent’s house.  I opened room after room on my way up and found a different vignette inside each one.  One of the rooms gave the perfect idea for a short story, which seemed so riveting with a perfectly conceived twist at the end, but of course, I cannot recall it upon waking.

The dream ended with my reaching an impasse on the stairs—a pile of curtains and old cast-off coats, obscuring an old wooden door.  When I pulled them all away, I found the door was labelled “Projection Room” and that it was also locked.  It seemed like no one had been there for years but the show was still running on, somehow.

(Image by (davide))