There's something intriguing and hauntingly beautiful about dreams.
Take last night for instance....
I dreamed I broke into the house of one of my friend's houses to clean. The thing that stuck with me all day was the door - a plain white paneled wooden job. The key to open it (Yes, I had a key. So not really B & E) was small brass and non-descript as it lay in my palm looking rather like the key to my desk at work actually.
The lock that the key worked was harder to find. It sat behind a seamless panel that sprang back when I touched it. The key itself worked in the lock like a puzzle of sorts. When I was leaving, I noticed that the door was now a divided Dutch door where the top was only about one foot wide and the bottom was only about two feet wide. I fit through it, but just barely.
It was like leaving a Dali painting.
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