The dream itself wasn’t unusual. A house, a large house, much bigger on the inside than outside. Corridors and hallways and stairs led this way and that, up and down, sometimes in a predictable pattern and other times not. Doors were here and there, some closed, some open, some locked, some broken. Behind them all were many things. Tiny rooms, large rooms, empty rooms, rooms full of people without voices or faces, rooms full of darkness, rooms full of things that followed, rooms of things that left.
This was one of her dreams - one she’d created. Each door led to something slightly different, yet the same. They were lonely rooms behind the doors. Rooms no one wanted to stay in for long.
However, as she found herself standing between two doors that were certainly not doors of her making, Sherry found herself perplexed. What were these doors doing here?
They fit in the wall of the hallway just fine, almost as if they had been put there by her, but they clearly had not been. T