The first time I was being held in a house belonging to a sect. I knew there were several ways out, but I couldn’t take any of them.
The teleporter was out of order: the closet it was supposed to be in was in use to store empty buckets. And if it had worked it would just have put me in a random place in the (fenced) grounds, not necessarily near enough to an exit.
The time machine was too risky: it worked by slingshotting the user first to the past, no more than about 200 years, then up to 6000 years into the future, and dropping them at a random spot along that curve. I didn’t want to get that far out of the frying pan. A one-way trip, too, but I knew at least one person, perhaps the sect leader himself, who had ended up less than a year from his time of origin.
I planned to climb out of a window while the sect leader was away but I couldn’t decide which of my stuff to take, and which of his stuff to steal, and whether it would be an unforgivable crime to leave the water supply unattended (the water supply was very important, and I was sort of in charge of it). Anyway, I’d have had to get to an exit just the same as with the teleporter, but at least from the house I knew the way. I don’t know why I couldn’t use the door, possibly because it was guarded.
I woke up at 4:30 for a call of nature. When I got back to bed I tried to finish the dream –an exciting adventure story after all, much like an episode of The Avengers— but on falling asleep again I was pitched headlong into something else. I can’t remember much about it, except that it involved islands and church music and perhaps cats and was somehow more fine-grained and less painted with a broad brush. It had just as little closure, so I lay half-awake trying to finish that until half an hour past my usual getting-up time. Fortunately it was Saturday and I didn’t need to get up early.