Shortly after I woke up this morning I dozed again briefly.
As soon as I did, I found myself standing in front of a genteel Victorian or
Edwardian town house which had a flight of three or four steps leading up to
the front door. I felt the immediate onset of a mixture of excitement and fear,
both of which were close to overwhelming. I didn’t know why I felt that way and
woke up after what seemed like only a few seconds.
I remembered that the street was empty apart from me, and
the house was pristine – white or pale grey stucco walls and a shiny black door
that looked newly painted. The door knocker was polished brass.
Such a clear dream, clearly remembered. And so short. I
wonder whether the black door offers a clue to its genesis.
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