When I was a kid, I had a few recurring dreams. This is the Scooby-Doo Tunnel Dream, which I had over the course of about 6 years:

I fell asleep in the sun once, when I was about 7 years old. I had been playing with a little silver bell, and when I woke up, I realized it had fallen down the pipe where the oil man put the oil, so I went after it.

The tunnel was somehow wide enough to accommodate me and my grandfather. We fell down the dark tunnel on our butts with out feet out in front of us, just like Shaggy and Scooby-Doo. The tunnel was slick, but somehow we never got dirty. At the bottom of the slide, we arrived at a red, wooden door.

I opened the door to find a brightly lit room with a west-facing window, under which was a boomerang-formica-covered 1950's style dinnette table. This table, to my great joy, was covered with books of all kinds. The light coming from the window was wavery, because the entire room was located just under the water of Puget Sound. (In fact, I have always pictured the room as existing just below the low tide mark at Marina Beach in Edmonds.)

The light, the table, all the books, these resulted in a feeling of utter safety and contentment for me. The opposite of an anxiety dream. And that's always where the dream ended.