Hallway

It was more than just a dream. The events took place over several months. The world had a history and complex design. The relationships between the people were complicated, layered. Everything looked and felt so real.

But then I woke up.

It started with a picture that I couldn't hang. My wife and I had just moved into our new house and I wanted to surprise her by framing a photograph she had taken. I tried to hang it in the hallway, but the wall wouldn't allow it. It bent one nail after another, any that I tried to put through it. I ran my hand across its cool, painted surface.

"Forget it," I said. On to other things.

Then the laudanum arrived by mail, meant for the previous owner. My wife wanted to be bold, for us to try it only once. But then we tried it more, almost everyday after that first one. It took up so much time. Days went by, or they seemed to in the world of the dream. I had ideas that I thought would last forever, not that any of them did.

One night, I passed through the hallway and took a closer look at the wall where no pictures hung. My wife was asleep, had been sleeping for days, so I looked at the wall until morning. It was easy to look closely at things with my opium brain. By noon the next day I saw them, the etched symbols lurking beneath the paint on the wall. I went to the garage for some paint thinner and returned. I began my work, stripping the paint away to expose the wall's message.

It took several months, but so much happened in that time, more than I'll ever remember. I stopped messing with the laudanum. I traveled to other parts of the world and met the people there. I divorced and started dating again. Seasons changed in the world of the dream. However, I always returned to my work and, eventually, I removed every inch of paint from the hallway wall.

I stepped back and, now seeing the entire message all at once, I understood what the symbols were saying. I read the secret message and then almost immediately woke up. Awake and somewhere new, I repeated as much as I could to myself, desperate to not forget it. The message had told me so many things, much of it just for me to know.

But most importantly it said, "This is more than just a dream."

Secret Room

Oh, it's that dream where you find a secret room in a house you've lived in for years. The entrance is usually off to the side of something else that distracts the eye, or just behind a corner you rarely notice. Maybe it takes something a little more special to find it, like a magic spell or a tricky maneuver to get inside. Maybe you found it by accident. It's possible that you were running from something dangerous when you noticed the wood paneling next to the freezer chest in the garage could be a door.

The secret room is never empty; it's full of dusty furniture and keepsakes. Sometimes it's your misplaced stuff, stored by an unknown, but most of the time it all belongs to a previous owner. There could be a suit of armor or a table full of old coins. There's an ancient TV set that looks like it might still work. You try your best to sort and appreciate everything and take in how neat this is that you've found this place. But you also need to be quiet.

Sometimes the room is larger than would appear to be possible and seems to be its own secret house. The room opens up and you turn a few corners, noticing other doors that presumably lead to other secret places. You imagine the days and nights you'll spend cataloging your new space, a mental map already branching out in your mind. You've already decided to keep this place a secret from your family and friends. It will be your special place to hide and be alone, should you ever need it as much as you do right now.

You look around one last time before you wake up. There is an extreme relief that you've finally found the secret room, like finding a forgotten part of you.