You grab the nearest coat, covering yourself in it's smooth, leathery, warm embrace. You yearn for more, as you cover yourself in layer after layer of fine coat, rifling your hands through their pockets to find nothing more than lint and dust. Just as you pull the 6th coat on, you feel a hand on your ankle, and then nothing, as though it was never there. Perhaps you were just imagining things. You shrug and open the closet door, finding yourself in a large, yet mostly empty, room. In the centre is a futon, and 2 doors sit opposite from you. It is dark, but the sun's rays trickle through closed blinds, the window sitting right above the head of the bed.
And then?