I’ve had dreams about an idyllic space, a flowery hill, with a path down it, maybe a little too steep in places. A path that turns into steps, or steps that straighten into a steep path. I’m walking down it, or running down it. I’m not alone. We’re descending the hill, us, as a group. Not too many—just a few. At the bottom there’s a stone wall, and the steps cut through it, and then there’s flat terrain but I never seem to get there. I’m just coming down that hill. We’re coming down that hill. The sun is shining. And it’s the most beautiful goddamn thing you can imagine.