Oh, did you want to hear about it?

Because, see, I had this dream.

In my dream I was visiting my friend in an apartment that was really a dream that was really a novel. The apartment was his, but it was mine, and he and his partner were visiting, but to make them pancakes I had to keep going to my car to get out my suitcases and bring them into their apartment, which was mine. It was made of sandy colored stone and had innumerable ledges and leaded glass windows with many panes. The apartment had two doors. It was 21G. If I went out one door, I entered a nondescript, deserted lobby, decorated like a bad late-twentieth-century bank. If I went out the other door, I landed myself on a narrow ledge, a couple of stories above the street, and I had to creep along the wall like a prowler. The sun was always out. Sometimes I realized that I needed to go back in that door and try to find the other door. The apartment had many rooms, and they were not always in the same arrangement two times in a row. When I left the correct door and passed through the lobby that was like the bad bank, I would end up on a street full of broken-down apartment buildings that were perhaps in the process of being renovated. I passed and repassed and passed again. I got next to nowhere.