It starts where many a movie chase ends: on the rooftop of a tall city building where—in the absence of a cape or spider webbing and having no place left to run—the bad guys and the good guys duke it out.

But when I open the door from the stairwell onto my tall building rooftop, rather than AC units and fire escapes, I am met with rocks, huge ones, the kind found along rivers and wild ocean coasts, the kind of rocks I have loved playing on since I was a kid.

And so I leap out onto one, and from there to another and to the next until I land on the side of a huge rockface. Now what. I find myself teetering: my hands are inexorably slipping from the precarious little rock- chinks to which they are clinging and if I move my foot, which I’m not even sure where to put next, I might fall. I turn to look behind me and find nothing but another hard place. I look to the side and there is nothing but huge empty space. My stomach lurches.

Thought appears: this is where you jump. I gulp, and then, jump. Oh-my-god-I’m-falling! And then, Um— I’m OK. Breathing, check. Body parts, check. Hmmmm, this is kind of exciting.

Oh, I’m dreaming!

I land, amazingly unscathed.

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