underground corridoors lie ahead. I know that there is a stairwell going a level further down, and there await special treats. I find it and go down.
This skeletal outline describes a dream, partially recurring, from when I was a child. It doesn't recurr as a dream anymore. But it does in memory, and it sort of even does in airports, because some have hired commerical artists to create these strange tunnels with odd lights and sounds to connect various terminals.
And for another time (or have I mentioned it already?): The Terminal Terminal.
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