June 21st, 1978: Where Dreams Live

Certain places recur in my dreams and now and then I have a feeling of recongition: "Oh yes, I've been here many times before".  One of them is a magazine and cigarette kiosk, reached by a twisting stair in a windowless section of a terminal (airline or subway?), lit only by its neon sign.  Another is a used book store, in the second story of a shabby building in a rundown and rather dangerous seedy business district in Denver, Colorado (Why Denver?).  I only get there occasionally because the way is rather intricate(and it goes by a boy's club where there is always a boy outside leaning on a lamp post).  There is one exterior, along winding road that goes downhill (you start from a tower covered with vines), that is travelled only by heads with wings attached (?)-and I too, fly down the path.  I have a friend who claims to have seen this country in daylight, in Baja, California.  And there is a country of trees, bigger than redwoods, where all the people live in the treetops and never see the ground-which is someware far below the leaves.  Its a calm and pleasant place that always means good dreams