Yet another weird dream

Another weird dream... I can't believe I'm dreaming again! I love it!

I'm in some weird school place... almost like an abbey. The walls are made of rotted wood, and the floor is cold gray slate. The piping is filled with blood. I have to fix a leak. Blood is pouring onto my head, as I struggle beneath the pipe. Dripping off of the tips of my hair, snaking its way to the floor. Below the pipe is a staircase. I can't fix it, and its spewing blood everywhere. It pools on the floor, it's level rising steadily. Surprisingly it doesn’t fill the staircase. I walk down the stairs to escape the overflowing room. At the end of the steps sits a small door. It's a vibrant red and gilded with gold. It looks similar to the one is Alice in Wonderland. I push it open and see a room, with low ceilings and never ending darkness. I squeeze through the door, and crawl. I end up in a store, like one of those huge discount places. I'm walking through an isle of costumes. Hats, crowns, wigs, skirts, and ballet slippers cover the floor. I walk through as fast as I can, and end up at a makeup counter. There is a wall of lip gloss, and I examine them. My mom is in the store also, and she as if I want my allowance or not. I say yes, and pocket the money. I pick up a tube of gloss, and look at the price tag. $49.99. Above the rows of identical tubes, a sign proudly displays "discounted name brands". I put it back, and pick up another tube. It fits my price range. I wander off into another isle, and find my self looking for eye shadow. Me, who hardly ever wears makeup, is looking for eye shadow. I find some black and blues, and head off to the cash register. Its taking too long, so I drop my supplies and head off to a towering enclosure made of bookcases, each as tall as a skyscraper. Some how I end up at the very top of them, browsing the selves. I'm standing on one of those platforms painters use. I look down, and it looks as if I'm looking down into a rainforest. Vines and exotic flowers cover everything. I’m suddenly sad. There are so many wonderful books down their. Precious gems. I start climbing down, the book cases sway. After a very long time, my feet reach the bottom, it's covered with hardpacked dirt. Stones peirce my feet. I feel as if I've wandered underground, but the truth is, this is the ground, I just wasn’t on it. I'm looking at books, they have beautiful titles with winding script. I feel happy. I see a librarian. She’s struggling through thick vines. She looks surprised to see me, almost impressed. Somehow, I feel as though I'm passing on my thoughts to her. I think this section of the book shelf should be open again, reachable, and she agrees. Wake up.