Stanton strode inside. He found himself in a big, quiet, dimly-lighted hall across the front of the place. A dull-faced attendant touched a button as Stanton entered.

Presently, out of a small office at the side, came a foppish, effeminate Venusian in elegant silks, who greeted the Earthman warmly.

“Welcome to our little house of dreams,” he said suavely. “I am Slih Drin, the proprietor.” He smiled thinly. “You wear the necessary electrodes, of course?”

“Of course,” Stanton told him. “This isn’t my first dream.”

He parted the thick black hair behind his ears. Two tiny metal electrodes which had been surgically inserted into his skull to connect with nerve-endings came into view...

“Ah, yes,” breathed Slih Drin, beaming. “And what kind of dream would you pre- fer tonight, sir? Would you like to visit an imaginary world of living colors, a kaleido- scopic universe such as one can only see in dreams? Or perhaps you would like to have the experience of being an animal, or bird, or fish?

“Or perhaps,” the Venusian went on to retail his dream-wares, “you would like a charming love story, in which you woo and win a girl more beautiful than any real girl could be?”