I dreamt that I was on the gallery of an enormous hall clad in exquisite blond wood. There was no-one else around. I was on my way to the ground floor, which was several floors below the gallery. As I was approaching the stairs that would take me down, I realized that they were quite steep. There were no railings anywhere, either. The shiny wood looked rather slippery, too. Only when I was right on top of the stairs, I realized that they were actually vertical. The only way to go down was to hold onto the stairs themselves. From above, they looked like an empty bookshelf. As I was turning around to start my descent, I somehow slipped and found myself staring at the shiny floor below. Suspended in midair some distance from the stairs, which were well out of my reach already, I contemplated my fall. “Too high,” I remember thinking quite calmly. “No way to survive this one.” But I just kept hovering above the shiny floor way below until I woke up. In retrospect, it was a joy to contemplate imminent death so very calmly.