This was another strange one (I know, when aren't they?).

First of all, I wasn't myself. I was a young boy, living with my father(?) in a large skyscraper/mall complex that he controlled. My mother had disappeared under mysterious circumstances years before and I was left with only vague memories of this kind, golden haired woman and a sense of loss. The father figure in the dream was rather akin to a cold, harsh accountant type, who dressed meticulously and had no more regard for me than he's have for any other possession. I was, however, offered a sort of protection because he saw me both as an heir and as his property. Somehow I become convinced that my mother has left some sort of important message for me and so I set off on a journey through the complex to find it. I meet several people throughout the building (one of my father's assistants, several shopkeepers, tenants) who all remember my mother but keep repeating the same details to me over and over again. Finally I find myself in a tiny, cramped curio shop owned by a very small asian woman who I find resting on a small pile of red silk cushions and smoking a cigarette in a long holder (like something out of the 1920's) spouting a series of Chinese proverbs (This entire scene reminds me of Carroll's caterpillar). She tells me in a very roundabout way that the truth I sought was only an illusion and leaving me with a rather obscure riddle (I wish I could remember this, it seemed quite elaborate). Confused and dejected, I make my way back towards my room at the top of one of the towers. I'm riding in the elevator, a pinging sound marking off each of the floors, I find that my attention is for some reason drawn to the button panel. As I watch, there is a slight hesitation before the light jumps from number 10 to number 11 and the elevator seems to ping twice. I begin punching the buttons on the control panel hoping for another anomaly, and upon striking the 10 and the 6 simultaneously, the elevator grinds to a halt and the doors open. Revealed beyond is a strange sort of half-floor (think Being John Malkovich here, only not quite that ridiculous. The ceiling is perhaps about 5.5') that's bathed in a sort of dim, antique style, yellow lighting. The last thing I remember is stepping off into a long corridor and hearing the elevator doors slide closed behind me.

Then I woke up.