secret passage ways

Have you ever been in a house with secret passages hidden behind bookcases or camouflaged wall panel entry ways? I have a pleasant reoccurring dream, thankfully, of such a hidden passage to narrow spiral stairs leading up to room full of stocked shelves of leather-bound musty books. And a large brown globe squeaking when you spin it on its axis. Kind of like the Earth's squeaking today now that I think about it.

There was such a secret door in my youth at my grandmother's house over on NW L Street.
On the way downstairs to the basement, no, damp cellar, where there was a mean old Apex clothes wringer just waiting to flatten my fingers with a stained drip board to catch my blood, a small concealed 4x2 foot wooden door opened into a moldy tomb with earthen walls housing a black-caked shovel and Chase & Sanborn cans filled with bolts and nails rusted together. Yes, it was the kind of dark dungeon you would've expected to find an old labeled pickle jar with Abby Normal's preserved noodle.
But no books. They would be joyfully discovered in the future, hidden in dry suitcases up in the attic.