. . . I am holding to a balloon. I am floating over the campus of some university.
There are no short ways to anything. There seem to be walls, and fences, and long way
arounds to everywhere. . .
. . .Arriving at my residence, I don't quite know the way around the halls. They are
narrow and dirty. I find a room I think is mine. I open the door. Inside it is bare. The
kitchen part is bare and curtained. There are lights, and muffled sounds coming from that
part. Then I remember--my room is on the other side of that. And I know--I am being
watched. . .
. . . Before I get to the door of my room, I am picked up by the chief of police. He
beats me in a dreamy, cartoony sort of way.
I say, to anyone who happens to be around me, "The cops can do anything they like,
so I will hit him back. . . "