There are places and memories that I am cognizant of
only when in dreams. They have no waking equivalents
and are as real and persuasive as anything in this
undream.
As seen last night; a vestibule stained a tan color
where weary travelers wear shades and rest in long
reclining chairs. All are dressed in antique suits
and we view a canyon where the road goes down
into fog.
I am afraid and relieved to see them, they are not
surprised at anything -- neither friendly nor unfriendly.
Such is the emotions of dreams, the scene is interrupted
when I wake. I find I am in a dark room, with gently
swaying shades.
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