This is another dream I had, also during the early morning hours of March 10, 2007.

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My wife and are on the inside of an enormous skyscraper. There are no upper levels, only a bottom floor — it is just one enormous chamber. The floor, walls and ceiling are all painted white. Through the whiteness, stretching to the horizon (I mean it when I say this is an enormous chamber), I can make out the shapes and shadows of what may be painted-over parklands, with shrubs, streams and sidewalks. Along the wall, which towers above us and literally reaches into the sky, a strip of advertisements are projected to the left and right of a balcony, which is in the centre.

I realize that somehow, we are INSIDE a website. This one is meaningless ad-generating spam site. A man is on the balcony above us, making a never-ending speech: butterflies erupt from his fingers, his grand gestures distribute stars and confetti, as he describes various products like a King introducing his new Queen, while light and colour play on a giant plasma screen above his head.

“Kendra,” I whisper to my wife. “Look up. I think I can see airplanes flying overhead, and maybe stars, too.” She looks with me, and we see yellow ripples through the fabric of the ceiling, miles and miles above us. Shapes seem to be moving overhead, beyond the translucent ceiling, and they do in fact appear to be airplanes.

“No,” she says emphatically. “You can’t think like that. The sky is literally millions of miles away from here. Stars and airplanes will never be visible from down here, not even with a telescope. We are situated at the base of just one tiny, infinitesimal room within the web – but the rest of the internet stretches beyond the galaxy. I know it looks like we can see the top, but we can’t, and never will.”

I realize she’s right, and the man on the balcony keeps talking.