I’m in this old house, I think it’s the same one with the library.  It’s been about a year since I had that dream but it is the first thing that comes to mind as I look around the passage I’m in.  I can’t tell where in the house I might be, there are no windows, and no doors so far. It’s just a long passage that seems to have odd angles every five to ten feet.  It felt like I walked an age and nothing ever seemed to change, except the quirky little bends in the hallway. Finally, I looked down and something on the floor caught my eye.  

It was a penny.  It seemed like an ordinary penny, but it somehow felt very out of place.  I bent down to pick it up. As I lifted it between my thumb and index finger, the penny began to bleed.  It slowly let loose a drop, down my arm, to the tip of my elbow and onto the spot I had picked it up from.  I went to wipe the blood off my arm, but there wasn’t anything there. It was as if it meant to mark the place where it had been.  I seemed to understand this, but could not fathom why.

I continued down the hall, examining this penny, looking to see if I could find where the blood may have come out of.  I looked up, jst to see where I was going and suddenly there were three doors. One on the left wall, and two, about 15 feet apart on the right.  I walked to stand between the three doors. At first glance, they all looked the same. But I nervously began to rub the penny between my thumb and index finger, and continued to look from door to door to door.  Then, one of the door seemed to shake slightly, and there, in the center at about my eye level, was a penny on the door. I looked down at the penny in my fingers, but it was gone. There was no handle on the door.  So, I ran my hands around the edges as far up as I could reach. I could find no latch. And, with the penny essentially staring me in the face, I felt I knew I had to pick it up. Using my thumb, I pressed it upwards. It slid off the door and into my hand.  But it left behind a dollop of blood in the same spot it had been on the door.

Penny in palm, I felt it start to warm up and a handle slowly began to appear on the door before me.  But instead of using it, I stepped closer to the door and it opened on its own. Another damned hall. But this one sloped down.  The ceiling seemed to be the only source of light. It gave off this sickly illumination, like a 30 year old emergency light on burning it’s last fumes.  This hall did have more doors. I slowly walked passed each because none seemed to have the mark I sought. Every door I passed seemed more battered and broken than the last.  But none had a penny. After about 13 doors in all, the hallway ended. Just a bare wall with no offering of an exit.

It felt like the last penny was still in my palm.  I could still feel the heat radiating from it. As I walked back down the way I had come, the pennys’ warmth dwindled.  I stopped as soon as I felt the change. I then took a step backwards, towards the dead end. It pulsed, another step backwards, another pulse.  I turned and started back, looking more carefully around me.

Between two doors almost back at the dead end, there was a small square impression in the wall.  In its centre was what looked like a penny painted onto it. It didn’t quite look real, but as I opened my palm, I saw the penny was gone.  I hadn’t even noticed. I was a little pissed at myself. But now, the penny looked more stable, tangible. I pushed up up and again it fell into my palm and the square of plaster turned a deep shade of red before it dematerialized in front of me.  I began to climb in and realized that it was actually a dumb waiter. Some one must have sealed it off at some point. But as I sat in it, it quickly dropped. After the initial terror of free falling in a barely people sized box, I realized I could jam my legs out and my hands up to keep from jostling.  As soon as I was stretched and connected to the encasement, I felt a surge of energy burst from within and the dumb waiter slowed its descent. I slowed it. I could feel it. The push of air from below, the pulse of energy pushing back from me, it was a beautiful cycle of air, moving to my will.

The box came to a gentle halt with an opening exposed and accessible from in or out. Nothing seemed off limits here.  I poked my head out, then realized that’s probably the worst thing I could do and pulled back in like a turtle. I leaned left and right to get a better view of what lay outside my confines.  I looked like a large, rock hewn room. Maybe a basement, I thought. I couldn’t hear anything. And it was an odd silence, that ran the blood cold and put one’s hackles up. I steeled myself as best as I could and listened for any trouble as I slowly came out, sure to look around as went.  I seemed deserted.

The room was a simple basement, and it was cold and no sound seemed to carry here.  It was completely bare, except for the opening to the dumbwaiter and a crack in the wall in the far corner.  I was really starting to feel anxious. I was terribly late for something and I really had to go. More than that, I just really wanted to be anywhere but there.  I turned around and suddenly there was a giant nest. I leapt towards it and suddenly I was in the backyard of the old mansion. Since I had landed face down into the brick a brack of the roost I flipped up hoping to see the library.  Sadly, I was in the backyard again. As I stood up from the nest, I realized I was face to face with the largest, fiercest looking bird I could never have even imagined. My worst nightmare looking me dead in the eye. I fell back into the nest.  I woke up.

This Dream is from February of 2019. (Added here to show how often my dreams seem to have some coherence).