We enter a  room that has antiques on tables and sideboards. There are old paintings on each wall. The detail of all the antiques and paintings would change each time I looked at them. Noting was static. I never saw the same item twice. The furniture looked to be original Victorian era. Suddenly the young lady opens a canned beverage and hands it to me. I am amazed for some reason that she actually opened it for me. I don’t know where it came from and I didn’t ask what it was. I took a drink and leaned against a doorjamb of the open door we had come though. The beverage had no recognizable taste or temperature. I stared at the young lady for a long while. I finally asked her, Where am I?” (instead of "where are we"?) - as if I knew that either she was not real, or I was not actually there. She began to laugh. Her hair, which was no particular color and every single color all at once, was whisked away from her face with her left hand and her eyes danced as her body pulsated to the rhythm of her laughter. She finally said, “You know”. It was clear that I had been in that house before, but I still had no idea where I was. I looked away from her to try to identify the art or the antiques in the room, to give myself a point of reference. When I looked back towards her, she was gone.