Perhaps I'm in Colorado. Fraser, in the driveway of my father's old house next to the totem he had carved by a Native American to represent his siblings and parents. There are people around me, young, beautiful people from the fashion industry. The outside shifts to inside a room lined with books and a table in the center. We are going over the weekly report. Someone in the room decides to show off his flying skills. Others follow. I push my chair out from under me and attempt to do the same. It's a pressured flying, more of a levitation than a float, more of a float than a fly. Still I'm impressed we are all on our way.
