The Menacing Staircase

27 Jun

I dreamed that I was in a city and had been meeting up with a realtor, I think–and he was charming and attractive. But some people I knew–maybe they were helping me house hunt–didn’t like him, as they showed while we were all just outside his glass-doored office, and he was inside with another customer. But I seemed detached from their group, about three people, as though I were invisible. They knew it would be at least fifteen minutes before we met up again, so I decided to take a quick shower. I went to the Art Deco hostel where I was staying.

In the enormous lobby, I passed a tall and skinny Middle Eastern young man, in his late teens or early twenties; he resembled Ms. Marvel’s brother. He was pausing in a doorway and overhearing his father yelling at someone.

I seemed to switch to his perspective. His father was yelling, “You have to be so devoted that you read the Quran while you are walking.” Something like that.

I had either his perspective or mine, when I kept walking and overheard what sounded like a dulcimer. It was wonderful music, and I looked around and saw a young guy in a corner, playing…playing…what at first I thought was a dulcimer, but it looked a lot like a silver radio, perhaps from the 1970s.

I returned to the young Middle Eastern guy’s perspective. He was holding a Quran open in front of him while walking, and he got to a delicate staircase that wasn’t along a wall but out in the middle of the room. It was like filigree and didn’t have a normal banister. As he was going up these stairs, it felt precarious, almost as though the stairs were swaying. As he got higher, about halfway up and at a landing or curve, he was resorting to putting the book down a few steps ahead of him and using both hands to grasp at the sides–well, there was a sort of banister or handrail on each side. It was quite frightening, and there seemed a likely chance that he would fall.

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