the small bookcase – Plato, Ficino, Frances Yates – look familiar. They belong to you.

the Madonna on the wall

“You leave the house behind and continue walking across the fields. Then you come to a wall.”

The wall is huge and made of stone, with little finials and turrets. Vines and roses overhang it in such a way as to forbid approach. It must be a good ten or twelve feet high, and is quite impassable.

the missal in the cupboard

“Can you get over the wall? As you look for a way past it, you see a key lying in the ground at your feet. You stoop and pick it up.”

Each of the three – Natasha, Joo Li, Dong Hoon – is concentrating hard. Each one of them is bending down and picking up a key: keys of silver, gold or iron, shiny or spotted, intricate or tiny. The alchemy of the dream absorbs them.

the spider under the glass

“Look hard at the key. As you stare at it, you begin to feel the dream slipping away from you. You start, and wake up.”

a home away from home

They start, and wake up …


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