October 15, 2006
The thirteenth dream: The house on Ashley, old, aching, dry-rotted house. I've found my way into the basement, a different one, not the dirt cellar. This one is newly poured concrete, extending for miles beyond the house, a labyrinth of tunnels and pipes, but I know my way. One section is very tight. I have to squeeze around a v-shaped corner and under a large green pipe. When I pop out, I angle up a darker tunnel. As I get older and larger, this becomes harder. I know that some day I won't be able to make it.