I find myself upon an ocean. I am as calm as the waters–crystalline blue, motionless, deep. I am beneath a bridge, it seems, for I am at its pier. But the pillar–I can’t see upwards. There are stones: rectangular, pristine, floating, lined as soldiers. I leap from the base of the bridge’s pier towards a stone. We sink, the stone and I. We float back. I leap towards the next stone. The same. Holding the stone now like a raft, my body suspends in the water. I wade my legs. I tilt my head. I feel something. Yes, I know these waters well. The bridge is gone now. Just water. Infinite, endless, tranquil water. And June. Where the sun sets into the ocean there is June, bursting from the blaze of elemental convergence. She has been gone, dead even, but she comes now in my night, paralyzed in the midst of infinity. Her hair no longer alive, no longer crimson. Her face sheathed in tattered silk. Eyes burn behind the veil. She moves no longer upon moonbeams, but now on lotus petal. But it is June, this I know. Are you alive? I whisper. She reaches out.