This was a special room in the Rijksmuseum. It was filled with books and to enter you had to be absolutely quiet. If I could have I would have spent hours there. Truth be told I would live there if I could. It had the peacefulness of nature and the quality of a dream. The other night I was in a typical dream when I realised that it was a dream. A unique situation and sort of the obverse of the room above. The odd thing was that instead of feeling liberated fully by this knowledge, I decided to keep the information to myself. Because I was at a party and I felt responsible for the other people there. I didn't want to ruin their fun. Which is absurd of course but also says something about me. Whether it's something positive or not I have no idea.