Clara sometimes asks me if I dream. "Of course I dream", I tell her. "Everybody dreams". "But what do you dream about?," she'll ask. "The same thing everybody dreams about," I tell her. "I dream about where I'm going." She always laughs at that. "But you're not going anywhere, you're just wandering about." That's not true. Not anymore. I have a new destination. My journey is the same as yours, the same as anyone's. It's taken me so many years, so many lifetimes, but at last I know where I'm going. Where I've always been going. Home. The long way around.