Exhaustion arrives like the crack of an assassin's rifle and I tumble into the darkened realms of an empty lift-shaft, my consciousness fading as I find myself spinning towards the gravitational rush of approaching concrete like suicidal crania. Overthrown by the sudden insurrection of sleep, my subterranean adventures begin and I plunge headlong into a succession of rat-infested sewers, deserted underground stations, undulating quicksand, boiling swamps and labyrinthine tunnels. Once there, hidden from sight, hundreds of miles below the earth and rooted in my chthonic realm like a solitary plant deprived of light, I must find my way to the surface. On and on I fly, ever-upwards, pushing in vain against sealed manhole covers, immovable trapdoors and small holes that offer nothing but claustrophobia and panic. The hours pass and I stumble through disused mines and pick my way through abandoned quarries, searching for the merest chink of light. The dream ends when I finally squeeze myself out of the darkness and into the enveloping sunlight, thus achieving temporary liberation from the encroaching alleyways of my subconscious. Home-leave for the tortured and imprisoned soul. When night falls, I shall return.