a train that gently swayed back and forth until I entered the Lovecraftian recesses of my subconscious mind. My lantern shewn on the slime of the Netherworld and what appeared to be a gentle recess in the floor turned out to be a drop of epic proportions. A drop that seemed to never end as I found myself falling deep into a well of tranquility. I knew that if I tried to understand what was happening the greedy little men with their projected faces would rend the fraying ends of my sanity apart and expose the fragility of my unstable mind. At last the wet recesses of the cavern were exited and the honey of sunlight dripped momentarily upon my face as we approached what seemed to be a modest abode. Yet, within, the fair maiden of my dreams was being attacked by the greedy little men and outside a disfigured, matronly woman whose inner beauty shone through her rough exterior was unable to gain entry and thus her heroism was denied.