There was something before that… I don’t remember what it was. Flying, yes, with only a thought, an utterly complete and transcendant ability. Nice, Côte D’Azur, along the beach, land speed record attempt on the beach, skateboarding championships, soaring incredible distances across the constructed apparatus. Search for… Corcoba Medusa/Madonna. Fashion designer, Italian, temperatmental, elusive. Beachfront flyover, with sign initially, but later without, searching for “the world’s fastest man/car/woman,” calling it out. Flying over the airport, slowly, but later picking up speed, all with the easyness and grace as if I had been able to for a long, long time. Rounding more outcroppings, flying through private gardens, seeing three/four politicians standing outside, and giving them my respect, they pose for a photo shoot, and I come across the Lotus group, posed too. Say hello to the two head honchos, whom I’m rather chummy with as well; I’ve met them at a dinner party before. St. Jeannet, cliffs next to the sea, the oceanographic museum; I descend lower and lower until I’m right above the rolling waves, and there she is, standing in a cavernous opening right on the water, with her arms outstretched. She’s experienced some deep loss, perhaps a death of some sort. I know she’s always wanted to be able to fly like me; I don’t speak, but tease her and she tries to catch me; I hover just above the water and just out of reach with my legs crossed, Indian-style, nibbling on two halves of a Nature Valley bar, stacked on top of one another. She laughs, still trying to catch me, and I wake up.