I was in a tiny bedroom. It felt like a second story bedroom, the kind just under the roof in an old house where the ceiling slants inward to make the room feel even smaller. It was poorly lit, possible near night. I was packing up an old satchel for a journey. The satchel was one of those old leather bags like doctors might carry in the olden days. It was sitting on the bed. Every time I turned around to get something else to put into the satchel, when I turned back whatever I had just put into it had been taken out and placed next to the satchel on the bed. It was both irritating and pretty creepy.
At this point, somehow I was able be inside the dream and also look at myself in the dream. From this vantage point I realized that there were also two other people in the room with me. These men were dressed in boring brown suits. They were some kind of police men, some kind of detectives, I guess. They chatted aimlessly about the personal life of one of them while they picked up and examined every item. They weren’t particularly interested in the items nor were they doing a particularly careful job of examining things. They had been cloaked somehow with some kind of technology that allowed them to be in the same room as someone even to talk in a normal voice without that person seeing or hearing them.
Not only were these two fat detectives in this tiny, private bedroom the door posts were these weird sculptures. They were a roiling mass of snake-like forearms and hands. They were able to reach out and grab at you if you tried to go through the door. One of the hands had been painted gold and for some reason, that one was the most terrifying of them all.