I was walking up an endless stairway. On each side of the stairway were murals or paintings of beautiful rooms. After each few steps upwards, the pictures would become more beautiful. The depicted rooms were not ultra-modern or of another age-they were beautiful, but simple. I finally saw the end of the stairway and ran as fast as I could, hoping that what would be beyond would be something special. When I got to the last step, I looked down and there was a beautiful garden far below. In the center of the garden was one small clump of red roses which seemed to stand out more than anything else. Then I was falling down toward the garden.