My father aspired to emulate Evel Knievel, planning to launch a train across a thousand-foot gap in the tracks. I had originally agreed to join the stunt, but fear of death compelled me to back out. On the day of the event, another person and I ran several miles along the beach to secure a prime vantage point. Miraculously, my father succeeded.
That same day, another spectacle unfolded on the artificial island where we were stationed: a trolley ascending one of its extended hillsides. Tragically, one of the women aboard perished. I found this perplexing, as the trolley posed no apparent risk—it climbed slowly and steadily up the incline.
I wake up.
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