I took a step through the archway and into a room that was long and narrow, the size and shape of a room you might play billiards in but infinitely longer. It was hewn out of the same sandstone as the staircase, there no windows but high above me i heard the soft cooing of birds, but I could not see them as i looked skywards. I do not know the source of the breeze that cooled my skin, but this did not seem to bother. The room was full of plinths, down the length of the room parallel to the walls. Upon these plinths sat monks, cross legged in the most cliche was possible, as I walked the length of the room I saw some of the monks were real, sat perfectly still, their shallow breaths barely moving their loose fitting robes from their chests. Others were statues, made of the same stone as the building they were in. I don’t know how i knew this because as i walked i could not tell them apart. I knew some were statues and some were men, but even in this brightly lit and airy room, i could not tell them apart, at times they seemed like they were both flesh and sandstone, I knew this to be impossible.
I had a dream last night, I was on a staircase in a building. The building was cool and yellow, the colour of sandstone, because it was. The echoey interior has that almost supernatural quiet that comes from a library, or a religious building. I knew, without any understanding, that this was a holy building of tremendous power, and with it was a great sense of peace, like nothing could do me any harm in this place. I took my first step up the stairs, and i heard nothing, my footsteps made no sound against the floor, like I was hovering millimetres off the ground. As I walked up the stairs, there was an opening to my right an arched doorway on a small landing, a gentle breeze blew through it and across my face. I halted my ascent.