When the young man invited me up to his room, I never expected that it would be so difficult to reach. From one floor to the next it was a labyrinth of hallways, small doors, and holes in the wall that I had to squeeze through, often while crawling on my belly. Each story was reached via a new and challenging way, namely wooden planks on the side upon which to pull myself up, an old rope hanging from the ceiling, and piles of bricks which had been broken out of the walls in order to be able barely to squeeze through to the adjacent chamber. Finally upon almost reaching the very top, I realized I had forgotten some important item required for the meeting and had to make it back all the way down to the bottom floor. Upon which the whole process of struggling, squeezing my body through impossible holes, and maneuvering the bizarre stairwells climbing along the walls started all over again. I must have had to climb up and down about ten times, and the dream probably lasted a good portion of the night, or so it seemed.
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