It is my room when I was twelve. The carpet is red and the walls are pale pink. It's spacious but the canopy bed is broken. I have paper airplanes in the canopy which tied to the four posters. It's morning and the window is closed. There's a large mirror over the dresser on one wall and I can see myself in it, wrapped in a flowered blanket, my feet up on the bed. This is very creepy because this is the room where I was molested as a child.

It's dark and a trail winds through it. The trees are mostly pines with flowers at their base, hidden in the undergrowth. As I get closer it seems somehow lighter and more magical, safe. Following the trail, the forest gets denser and darker, but also quite secure. It's a good place to hide.

The trail winds and loops and curves. Each corner is interesting and new. It's not marked at all but once you find it, it's easy to follow, as it curves around boulders dotted with wildflowers and passes a small pool of water, then a river, then a tiny waterfall. Each part of the trail reveals a new little wonder the further it goes, leading to some mystery.

A raging, lush waterfall falling down into a deep, deep, emerald green pool. Oddly, although a huge amount of water is falling, the pool is quite small. The torrent is falling from a distance of about twenty-five feet up over mossy rocks. It falls between thick, lush trees.

It's an oddly shaped amphora with a thin curving neck, made of terracotta. It doesn't look like a drinking vessel at all but rather more like a Genie's bottle.

It's a golden skeleton key, fairly large, and cool to the touch. There's a cross design on the handle. I'm thinking either unlocks a chest or the wrought iron gateway into the overgrown garden of a castle.