It is a recurring dream.
I am in a mansion with large framed photographs of men with turbans and moustaches on the walls. There is an arch in the stone walls covered with bricks. Looks like it conceals an entrance behind it.
The giant keys are frozen in time and refuse to reveal secrets. The flowers look like they have never known fragrance or fragility.
So, what am I doing here? I turn back, but a resounding voice stops me in my tracks.
It sounds familiar and brings me back to a grey, clouded morning. The ordeal will soon begin.
Creative Experiments and More 
I’m happy to share that I’ve nominated you for the Sunshine Blogger Award Your writing has been such a joy to read, and I wanted to celebrate that with this nomination. Looking forward to your answers if you choose to take part!
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There’s something hauntingly elegant about this piece—it feels less like a dream being described and more like a memory trying to surface.
The imagery is striking right from the start: the mansion, the stern portraits, the sealed archway. Each element carries a sense of history, but also of withholding—as if everything is present, yet nothing is willing to reveal itself. That detail of the “giant keys… frozen in time” is especially powerful; it suggests that access exists, but understanding doesn’t come easily.
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