I live in Edmonton, Alberta (Canada, eh), which is a pretty normal place. It's your typical landlocked Canadian prairie city of 0.5 to 1 million people. It gets pretty damn cold for a month or three, but the mountains aren't far away, the sunsets are beautiful, and the aurora borealis is breathtaking. Then there's alter-Edmonton.

I don't dream as much as I used to, but when I do, my dreams invariably take place in a strange version of the city. The High Level Bridge is upside-down (this makes perfect sense there, trust me), the river is at least a few hundred metres deep (it's really a glorified creek), and oh yeah, light comes from the ground, not the sky. Specifically, from boundaries between different shapes - cracks, edges, folds, gaps. It's always night.. well, the sky is dark anyway, but everything else is lit, albeit strangely, by ground light.

Nobody actually lives there except for me, although when I'm there, I'm not there. At most I'm invisible. Not like it matters if no one's there, but anyway, there it is.

It's a pretty cool place. I wish I could take a camera with me. The last time I was there, I jumped into the river after throwing a sheep to some guy who was drowning by the bridge (hey, what's he doing in my city??). Went for a nice swim - the water was perfectly clear and well-lit. I guess the river rose a few hundred metres at one point or another since there were a whole bunch of submerged bridges at around 150 metres or so.

How come my "real life" isn't this cool?

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