I have a recurring dream.
I live in a big house in this dream.
Rather like, but not exactly the same as, our last house.
That was big.
But this dream house is so big that I think I know how many rooms are in it but I am not exactly sure.
I remember feeling that, because I don’t know exactly how many rooms I have in my house, I feel rather good (in a shallow kind of way).
The Room.
I also remember that there is this one room in my house that I am frightened to go into.
I know the room is there.
But I will always procrastinate about going into it.
Stacked furniture blocks the entrance to it, you see.
And it is troublesome to move it.
This room, the one I am frightened to go into, is at the back of another room.
A bedroom.
At the back of this first bedroom, the ceiling slopes downwards towards this other, unvisited room.
I feel somehow glad that I have this other, unexplored place.
Comforted.
Yet I remain fearful of what is in the room beyond where the ceiling lowers.
I have never been there.
Yet.
