The Small Room

I dream of a small, white room with a big window looking out on a large yard with maybe a couple trees. There's a small bed, maybe a dresser. I'm locked in the room with no way out. The window opens slightly, but not enough for me to get out. I'm in there for days, weeks, just thinking. There's a record player and some records, maybe some books, some paper and a pen. All I do is write, sleep, listen to music. I'm in there until I'm ready to come out, whenever that is. It's not a set time, it's a feeling.