recorded
you find yourself in a hallway you do not remember choosing. the house is yours. you have always lived here. you know this in the small, certain way you know your own breathing.
but there is a door you have not opened, and through it a room you have not been in, and through that room another. each room is fully furnished, by a hand you do not recognise as yours, but which the room insists is yours. one room has a piano. one room has the things you owned at twelve. one room is exactly the room you are standing in, only a little colder. you keep finding doors. the hallway gets longer behind you, which you take as a courtesy.
somewhere on the upper floor, water is running. you do not go up. you understand that the house is not the dream; the house is what the dream made when it could not use the memory. you open another door. you have always lived here. there are still doors you do not know.
recorded on waking · undated
return to sleeper · dream · or walk down the corridor next door.