A dream from June 20th, 2026

I stand on a flat, high-altitude plain scattered with rocks of various sizes, sparse grass and wildflowers filling the cracks between them. The uninterrupted line of dirt and smaller stones stretching before and behind me gives the impression that this place has rarely seen bipedal life—or, if it has, it is during a time when it looks nothing like it does today. Maybe it is the foggy air that lends it a sense of mystery and magic, but this place seems untouched by the kind of time marked by humankind. A place found only when it wants to be. What brings me here, or whether my trip has been fruitful, I do not know. But I do know that I have reached the end of it, and it is time to leave. There is a train station somewhere—the same one that brings me here in the first place—and I need to find my way back. I look again at what makes me stop in my tracks: two branching paths. To my left is a twenty-minute trail along a dangerous track lined with steep cliffs, uneven terrain, and ropes that…