The Mystery of the Five Panel Door

I haven't quite figured it out, but I have this recurring dream that cropped up last night.

I'm always in a very large, dark house that is full of many rooms and corridors that are all interconnected. The house is decorated very richly as if it were built at the turn of the century with lots of dark wood work, gold fixtures and royal blue and white wall paper. It has fallen into disrepair and things are tattered and dusty. Difused light peeks through rips in the curtains, but other than that, it is dark. There are many pieces of dark red velvet furniture everywhere.

For some reason, I live there alone and I am in the process of exploring the dozens of rooms. I am very scared to go into the lower level of the massive house. Once when I went there, I found that there were many bedrooms and bathrooms that lined this dark hallway. Every light in every bathroom was on. The bathrooms were tiled pink and were all wet on the inside. Everything was wet, the mirrors and walls and fixtures and the floor. On the other side of the hallway, there are many bedrooms. In each of the rooms, a corpse lies in the bed. But I'm never sure if they are really there or not. It's just like the remnant of a person there.

All the way at the end of this long hall on the right hand side, there is a door that stands a couple of inches open. A low light shines from within it. The whole room is light blue, the heavy drapes are parted just enough to see in the room through the crack in the door. The door is different from all of the others in that it is a white, five panel door with a brown glass knob. Although I am terrified, I want to look in the room, as I push the door open, my grandma appears in front of me and directs me to this curved stairway across the hall.

The stairway goes up, but you never make it upstairs. The passage gets smaller and smaller until it is unpassable and stuffy. There is an oddly shaped window there that you have to try to get through in order to get out. I always end up trying to go back down, even though I am terrified of that hallway.

When I make it back down stairs, it isn't downstairs anymore, but a large warehouse where there are millions of pounds of clothes stacked up on folding cafeteria tables. I dig through looking for my clothes to pack and leave, but can't find them.


I have had this dream dozens of times in the past few years. Figure that one out.