Snakes block the doorway in grandmother's kitchen

"I was searching through my grandmother’s kitchen drawers looking for a spare house key, but all I could find were rusty scissors. When I dropped one on the tile floor, three long snakes slid out from beneath the refrigerator—one bright green, one jet black, and a thick brown one with smooth, glistening scales. They weren't moving fast, just slowly winding around each other near my bare feet, blocking the doorway so I couldn't get out. I froze, my heart pounding in my ears, terrified that if I made even the slightest movement one of them would strike my ankle. I tried to shout for help, but no sound came out of my throat, like my voice was completely muted. Suddenly I was standing on a wooden footbridge over a dark creek, holding a heavy garden hose that felt warm and was subtly squirming in my hands. I threw it into the water and backed away, my chest tight with this lingering, cold dread that wouldn't let me breathe."