A personal library. Bookshelves on every wall, a couple of display cases with a small butterfly collection and some chipped stone adzes, and a soft stuffed leather armchair. I was sleeping on the carpet, however. It's cold, that's probably why I woke up.

It's thick, luxuriant sub-tropical almost-rainforest. Tall trees without low branches are blocking out the direct sun, but enough light makes it through to make the leaves of the smaller plants and growing saplings glow almost yellow.

Path? I'm not sure there *is* a path. I'm taking the path of least resistance (okay, so there was a path) but at every step I have to push aside some crazy Dr. Seuss-style pompom plant or step blind into a tangle of vines or duck under a rotting log or whatever.

I almost fell into it. It's a narrow little stream, almost narrow enough to jump over, and the undergrowth crowds right up over the banks. Sharp-faceted rocks under a foot or so of clear fast-moving water, and I know without even putting my hand in that it's painfully cold.

One of those joke leather bladders with a plastic inner liner, a badly printed picture of a dwarf --helmet, beard, axe-- and the legend "Quaffing has never been easier!!"

It's wooden. Who carves a key out of wood? A professional, obviously, it's beautiful handiwork --- yellow-white with barely a hint of woodgrain, and the business end is an intricate and delicate pattern of interlaced spirals. It would never work as a real key, but it's a gorgeous piece of art.