Flying To Boston  I'm in a small plane with others. We take off from a dirt or grass runway and immediately turn to the 12 or 1 o'clock position, which is a very steep, nearly upside down, turn. We all hang on. We are flying to Boston, which is four hours and twenty ___ minutes away (I forget the exact number of minutes). We get up in the air high and can see the town of Boston in the distance, with all its suburbs. We fly over a suburb that extends to a point on a narrow peninsula. There is one private house on the peninsula surrounded by clear turquoise water. The house is obviously owned by wealthy people. It has a swimming pool and a meticulously kept lush green lawn. This is a place or suburb called Owen, and it is Cape Cod, a very nice, posh place to live. I see gourmet snack food delights laid out along the poolside. It is a beautiful place, with blue water and a clear sky. My housemate Glen Ryan is with me. I'm inside the house flipping through the television channels with the remote control. I see images of cartoon characters on the screen of each channel I change to. I realize at some point that the reason for the flight taking over four hours is because, even though we're close to the city, we're making several stops.