Last night I dreamed about the house again. The one I've been to hundreds of times in my sleep and is as comfortable as an old winter coat, but that couldn't possibly exist because the rooms don't stay the same. I think it's a part of my mind, or a representation of it.  There are a lot of bedrooms and secret passages and mirrored architecture.

If the stairs go up one way, they go up the other way. If there's a room on one side there's a room on the other. They aren't always decorated the...