It seems no matter how I start out, I end up back "home". Bainbridge Island, WA, where I raised my children and caught a ferry (not fairy) into teach in Seattle for many years. Running through the convoluted ramps and onto the ferry is a constant theme of my dreams, even six years and 2k+ miles away in Illinois, my dream world is dictated by the ebb and flow of the ferry. Seattle once had a large dome that filled the skyline as the ferry neared the city. Gone now but still represented here by a red dome, not a setting sun as would seem. How often, like a cat, I stood on the ramps, waiting, looking out the window at the birds who filled the air and perched upon the pier pillings. Seagulls who followed the rumbling beasts across Puget Sound in hopes a tourist might toss a crumb up their way. Loons standing silently on wooden poles, wings outstretched as if to say, Look at Me! I am awesome!