4am

I woke up at 4am to think about a dream that involved a thick jungle and a mansion that was alive as well as occupied with shadows.

The shadows were malicious and the house was mischievous and between the two it was a very dangerous place. The tricky part was that the jungle would prove deadly to stay in for any duration of time.

I woke up and thought about the elegant wood mantles, door frames and soft waving white curtains. The deep fire places, the ominous corners, the threatening stairs and the misleadingly soothing colors on the walls.

The dream meant something but I am torn. Was this a place that existed as I saw it or was this a representation of a physical space or was this a reflection of something inside me?

The house was breathing with life. The individualism of each detail was startling and, even after several hours of absolute boredom, I still find them easy to readily recall correctly.

The shadows were separate from the life of the house but they were trapped in the same space. They were lethal in their desires and goals. In the dream, I tried to figure a way out of the house that would not include a trek through the murderous surrounding jungle.

And there was something about a painting. A portrait painting, that was the key.