1997 – I am in a car with someone else. We pull up to an area of danger. We go into a room or cave with a hole in the bottom. I go down headfirst through 2 or 3 very tight places. It seems I did this once before, perhaps. After each tight hole there is a place of respite. I come out in a room with 2 or 3 people. I seem to have landed on something like a table. Part of it is very smooth and white like marble with the suggestion of large squares marked in it. Sandy Lansford is standing up and she has a book in her hand. I ask don’t books mildew down here? I think she agrees. It seems to me now the book is The Tree by J. Marvin Spiegelman. I am made aware of he danger in this locale–it seems there are Indian attacks. We are expecting someone who’s been sleeping upstairs in a tent to come down soon, to escape the Indians. I try to think of hiding places down there if the Indians come. As I came down the hole and now I wondered how I was going to get out again. Coming down I had gravity on my side, but getting out would be more difficult. I awoke immediately feeling claustropphobic.
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