The Warehouse lived in her dreams.
It was not something she could properly describe. At night, asleep, she wandered past endless shelves, down dark hallways, through gloomy rooms, but she was never lost or afraid. No one was ever there, in her dreams, but it was never silent or empty or dead.
She could sense the hum of life, like a distant snatch music just beyond perception. Undefinable but familiar. The Warehouse sang to her; though she didn't understand the words, it felt warm and comfortable.
It carried a message for her:
This is where you belong. This is home.