I am going to a doctor office, not for a visit but to drop something off. I am in the entry lobby, and open a door that leads down a corridor. As I look into the corridor, thinking to move forward, I collapse. I lay there, half in, half out of the corridor, the door still open. I wonder if I have fainted, but realize that no, I have just collapsed. I lay there not moving, thinking of what I need to do next. I know I must look strange laying there on the floor, surely someone will notice and let the doctor know. I am thinking that this isn’t my regular doctor, but he will still know what to do. I wonder when someone will find me.
I am in an old building, upstairs in a big room filled with books and chairs and sofas. It is a reading room and I am reading a very big fat book, hardback, probably well over a thousand pages. It’s not a novel, but rather heavy reading, yet fascinating.
I am going through rooms, bedrooms mostly, checking them out for size and layout. Looking for one for myself, but also thinking of family members, like I’ll see a room and think it might be perfect for my daughter. But mostly looking for me.