The Shadow's Film

A small hotel corridor bends gently downhill. A window in one of the rooms shows a season I do not recognise, casting shadows on the floor. The ache belongs to someone else is echoing from another room. There is a film projector running with no film in a nearby corner. The door at the end of the hall is closed and does not open.

I am in the corridor but I am not in it. I cannot walk, cannot reach the window or the projector or the door. From the wall comes a familiar song played softly on a piano that is not there. A hand appears in the frame of the window, reaching out to touch something, then retreats. The window fills with shadow, then empties, and the ache moves closer.

This dream should have more in it, but these are the pieces I can remember.