I am flying my hover-board up a long, steep path towards the top of an impossible fjord that drops onto the sea, seeming to stop there and failing to extend further down, as if it were hovering just above the surface. Once at the top, I have an aerial view of my college town, but it’s not where it should be. It is far below me, across the bay from the bottom of the cliff, and everything is covered in conifers and snow. Nothing is consistent.
When I turn around to face away from the edge, I am in a very small, very clean town with glass buildings, and it is summer. One building is 20 stories tall, and inside it there is a tree trunk. At the top, the building opens up into a huge atrium and the tree branches shoot out and up into the sky, under the weight of thousands of oranges. A shop on the ground floor sold only orange juice.
I was looking for my friend’s apartment but I had no idea what the building looked like, or what unit she was in, the only thing I had to go on was a picture taken from her balcony. So I had to fly up the sides of buildings and look around for the right vantage point, then turn around and I would arrive.