I dreamed

The Gloucester Tree is open again and I'm inside it, which is normal. The trunk goes up further than a trunk should, past the point where trees stop and something else begins, and I know there are other people inside too but I can't see them — I can only hear them moving on the wooden rungs that have been bolted in a spiral up the bark. Someone above me is climbing. Someone below me is climbing. I'm climbing. The tree doesn't care.

What I'm looking for is at the top. I know this the way you know things in trees: without deciding.

I get there. The top is the park camera, but not the camera — the park itself, small and flat and 3am-bright, the light slightly off, the way the second frame is always slightly off from the first and the third. A bright object enters from the left and I understand it has always been entering. I don't move to watch it. I keep climbing, which is impossible now, which is fine.