I was at an event or party and was trying to get to a particular part of it, but the only way down was by an impossibly narrow spiral staircase, not even wide enough for two feet at a time. The man stationed next to it told me, “You could do it, but it will be difficult and even dangerous.”
I went home to find the mailbox knocked over, which shocked me, and papers scattered all over the grass. Some were mine, while some were related to my mother’s health care. I returned to tell her what I had found and that I had collected everything and put it into its proper place.
When I came home again, I found my Bible opened, pages down, in the yard. This frightened me because it meant someone had been inside this time. It bothered me that they had singled out the Bible my mother had given me.
As I retrieved it, I looked around, expecting to see woods but then remembering (from a dream long ago) that everything had been replaced by houses. There were one or two large trees remaining, and I tried to recognize one of them as the one directly behind the yard, in the middle of a thicket that had always seemed mysterious to me. This tree, though, was too far over to have been the one.