Flight and Lime

A group of people and I are flying over the ocean where the little mermaid once lived (she has since then married Prince Eric and moved to his castle by the sea in France). We are soaring, high-flying, gliding on giant bird wings, dressed in business suits. The women are wearing heels. We land on the spire of a tower in a town. Then there is a sweeping panoramic view of the crowded city, which then zooms in on a lime in a dirty street, under a table across from a stall. The lime is half-rotted and burst open from being underfoot and stepped on by the people milling about. Suddenly a heel appears by the lime. My mind’s eye travels up the leg of a woman dressed is a business suit, but whether it is one of the other women in the group of people who flew in and landed on the tower’s spire or whether it is me, I cannot tell. I cannot tell anything other than we have arrived. The Dreaming shifts …