5. The Shimmering Greenhouse

How could an empty village feel so jubilant?

Trails of hickory smoke hover at nose-level, waiting to be followed. Doorless bamboo huts suggest a cozy bustle of neighbors … yet you see no one here.

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Prayer flags, faded but cheery, lap against the awnings of houses, interlocking and stacked high like layers of honeycombs. They thread through alleyways and alongside ragged staircases, still legible as dots of confetti when greeting you from the distant town’s peak.

There are moments that are very clearly not a dream.

Like now: the sensation of peeking around, possibly getting caught at any time. The tingling mix of curiosity with complete uncertainty.

A steep slope—seemingly just rocks piled up into stairs—appears before you. At your approach, you notice music ( faintly ) coming from above.

[ Climb up and investigate the music’s source ] —

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Unmistakable sounds of a live performance accompany your ascent. The houses on both sides sandwich you into a narrow canyon, reverberant with echoes.

Halfway up, an enormous glass dome hovers into view.

The greenhouse perches atop the village apex, ambitiously spherical, as if landed from space. It shimmers in waves of iridescent colors, translucent rainbows rippling across windowed glass, most vividly near the base. The townsfolk seem to be all here, attending the show in silence, eyes closed.

Each time you blink, you see what they see: