As part of a basketball tournament my younger niece was participating in, I found a display at my Aunt D’s house. Most of the coaches had provided their players’ photos and statistics on boards, but my brother had sent a large box of disintegrating old books and a small box of photos that had been ruined when someone colored out whole areas with a crayon.
Some of the photos were of a beach vacation at a place where the summer light lasted all night, and I kept thinking of Niagara Falls. The photos made me long to be at that half-lit, surreal beach again, which I thought I remembered but didn’t.
When I looked again in one hallway, all the displays were gone. The next hallway was also empty. I was going to call my parents to pick me up, but had put my mobile phone aside.
Toward the back of the otherwise empty house, I found some women waiting for an elevator. One of them told me my aunt’s house was huge, even after she’d closed off much of it. This part was used for this elevator, which transported these women undergrounds so they could get to their organization in the farmhouse across the field. All of this intrigued me, but I wished I had my phone so I could leave.
Somehow I found myself carrying a bucket of ice for this organization across the field. Instead of delivering it, however, I dumped it out into one of the field’s rows, where it mixed instantly with the dirt to become mud.
I continued to dream about the land where the sun never sets and my aunt’s limitless house.