In this dream, the shed has a basement.
We are upstate. It is morning and I’m just waking up. Violet is by the bed, looking worried. She asks if she can climb in with me. “Of course you can,” I say, and bundle her in. She tells me she had a bad dream (usually she won’t elaborate) but this time tells me it’s a recurring dream she has about the shed.
We have a small shed at the edge of the back yard, right before the woods start. In the summer we sweep out the mouse poo and dead moths because the kids sometimes use it as a playhouse, but mostly it’s empty. Except for the squirrels living between the ceiling and the roof.
In this dream, the shed has a basement. She can see that it has a ball pit in one corner and a fountain (like in a park), so she goes down into it. But after awhile, she realizes that all the staircases that went down to the basement don’t go back up and she can’t get out. She’s very scared at this point (she’s almost crying as she tells me this).
From nowhere, there is a man, yelling a test at her. (I think this test has something to do with getting out of the basement.) He yells out a letter and she has to point to every body part that starts with that letter.
Then she gets very quiet as she tells me, Any part I miss—that I don’t point to—they take away.