Tunnel Phobia

You wouldn’t go with me into the old mine – even a guided tour with hardhat, miners’ carbide lamp to glitter rich metals revealed by the pick’s rough stroke. Remember the mystery-mine in the museum, a child-size cubicle, we had to duck to fit inside. And there, by magic of black light, the walls glowed brilliant against subterranean night. Forget the legends of haunted shafts, tommyknockers, other nameless beings of the dark. Forget the chance of cave-in, dust explosion, fire, toxic air. Think of it as letting your self drift down to sleep, perhaps to dream in gemstone color, silver, and gold.