The room is warm. 10 A.M. sunlight is twinkling through a crystal suncatcher to my left. An orange and green-predominant crazy quilt has been laid on top of me. There is a rough-hewn four poster, probably walnut, a redwood bedside table with a lamp and a book. The bed is really soft. The floor is wood, with a pink fuzzy round mat at the foot of it. Across from the bed is a chest with a full-length circular mirror to it's left. The door is to my right, across the room. There is a door immediately to my right, presumably the closet.
It's dark and safe in the forest. Slightly cooler, yet the moon dapples through the branches of the Redwoods. It's quiet, with a sense of wonder enveloping it. There is a weeping willow tree, ahead in a clearing on the hill, yet it seems to be at peace with its surroundings.
There is a narrow path leading through the Redwoods, rather straight. Rocks and branches litter either side, so walking is kind of difficult. Not insurmountable, however. It just requires a bit of planning.
It is a clear brook. It is laughing it's way through the trees; easily stepped-over.
It is a goblet made of red crystal and a silver stem. It is intricately-marked, with scrollwork winding its way up the glass.
It is an old-fashioned key made of brass. There are all sorts of flutters and embelishments in the metal. It looks like it would unlock an old house or a chest.