I had a dream about an expansive mansion isolated in the forested and snowy mountains. It was uninhabited but pristine and well-kept. Hallways ran across the outline of the building. On the exterior wall of some lengths of the hall were doors to spiral staircases that ran up stone turrets into private bedrooms, further interconnected by a series of cramped tunnels in the wall. The interior walls had other doors that gave access to deeper parts of the mansion. One of these doors led to a ballroom, some to dens, and some more to further hallways. The side that I entered from was a sort of long conservatory hall. The windows stretched from floor to low ceiling here and had nearly all their curtains drawn. The glass ran all the way across to a door in the distance. That door opened to one of the standard hallways. Some of these windows were replaced by glass doors, which was how I got in. There were chairs there too, accompanied by stout tables and occasionally lamps, and they faced out into the small clearing backed by the white forest. The sky was marble and snow drifted down. I fell asleep in one of the private rooms on the second floor.