So I was walking home through this woodsy area -- no idea where "home" was but I don't think it was my current apartment, though I do feel like I was my current age/place in life, etc. I pass by many adults in the woods but none of them seem to notice me or smile or make eye contact, which is fine but feels weird. I then come across this very tall housing structure that looks familiar to me, and then suddenly I am at the top floor of what I assume is the same housing structure. It's REALLY nice inside, super cheery classroom, and there are a bunch of kids with backpacks on running around but I don't see any adults. One of them tells me, "It's time to go home! It's time to go home!" I say, "Oh, do you guys have buses you need to catch?" and a boy says, "No, my mom is going to pick me up, but we need help getting downstairs."

So I start leading this pack of maybe 20 kids down a very large stairwell, and with every lower level we get to, it seems slightly less cheery than that first floor. I feel like I'm just being silly though, so I talk to the kids about their day to pass the time - they tell me there was a play that day, and some of the kids lift up their shirts to show me the costumes they had on underneath. As we descend the stairs, the group gets smaller, but for some reason I don't worry or question it, I guess I figure that they were meeting their parents or doing whatever they had to do on another floor. But the building is getting worse and worse -- the paint is peeling off the walls, doors are boarded up, it's dusty and doesn't smell very good. The kids keep on following me like nothing is unusual, though, so I keep going.

We get down a few more floors and there is a girl (much younger than the kids I was with, many three) crying. I ask her if she needs help getting downstairs and she says yes. I tell her to follow me but she is too distraught, so I carry her. I have many five kids left from the original classroom group.

We finally get to the bottom level and no kids are left except for the one I am carrying (and who won't stop crying), and the whole room looks like something you'd see in a photo from the 1910s decor-wise except it's all charred up. Windows are broken, a pipe is busted and water is getting everywhere (and looks like it has been for a long time), it smells like mold and horribleness. I tell the girl, "Well it looks like we're almost here!" and she bites my arm SO HARD and then kind of just disappears out of my arms. So I am alone in this bottom floor and suddenly I hear this very steady push broom sound coming from the other side of the wall. I go over to investigate and there is a very old woman sweeping up ashes. She looks up at me and seems surprised, and makes eye contact (the earlier adults wouldn't, the kids would). She is wearing seafoam green scrubs. The sweeping stops. She says, "It's nice to see you again, but god if it isn't a shame what you did to those kids."