Michael dreams of tall buildings.
He dreams of tall trees.
He dreams of tall ladders.
He falls, far, far down.
When he lands, he sees women dressed up like the olden days. They have big skirts and fancy hats. He can’t see their faces because they are veiled in lace. He asks the women to show him their faces but they won’t. He thinks one of the women is Caitlin, or an old relative of Caitlin, but he can’t be certain because she won’t show him her face. The lady walks like Caitlin, but when he taps her on the shoulder, she won’t turn around.
He stops by a river and watches an old man paint a picture of the scenery. The painting looks like a perfect photograph.
Everything looks exactly the same as what’s in front of him. Michael is impressed and in awe, and can’t believe anyone can paint like that. When he goes to compliment the artist, the man won’t turn around.
After a few tries, Michael decides he should leave the river. He walks down a dusty road. He sees people on horses, men in carriages, women in petticoats.
Then he falls again.
He falls far, far down.
His stomach drops, and he lands nowhere he’s even been before.
He doesn’t see numbers.
He just sees tall buildings.
Tall trees.
Tall ladders.
In a moment of lucidity, he tells himself to keep dreaming.
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