I am climbing up a spiral staircase. The walls are light blue. They look like large bricks of an elementary school. They are painted with thick paint. There is scant room between the staircase and the walls. This small space would be enough to fall through. The stairs are also a shade of light blue. They look like they lead to a slide on a playground. They are metal. Something about them says that they're precarious.
I look down. I look up. I see the same thing in both directions. More stairs. Eventually, what I see disappears into darkness. The damn stairs could go on forever, for all I see. I imagine a large machine dropping ten foot segments of stairs into the top of the building. With such little room, they would land just right. This process, like the stairs, could continue indefinately.
I continue my ascension. At some point, a pebble drops. I assume my foot knocked it off the stair. I can hear echoes of the pebble hitting stairs on its way down.
I tell myself, reassuringly, that if there were werewolves in the building, I would absolutely hear their shrieking.