On top of a steep, bare stone mountain I find myself on a plateau covered in fields of harvested grain. The summer yield's remains are sun blasted brown, stubby and coarse. The surrounding terrain is littered with baked bones, old steel engine parts and black plastic garbage bags matted to the ground. I’m standing in the middle of all this (which spreads around me about a mile in all directions) next to a weather beaten wooden shack that might have been painted gray long ago; the paint is peeled and faded with time.
I’ve been painting with thick black oil on the metal surface of an oversized tuba (about 8 feet tall) what appears to be a maze pattern. After a section of the painted work has had time to dry it beads up and disappears. I don’t know why I keep trying.

I’m joined by a couple of men; clearly they’re drunk and feeling like pulling pranks. They’re middle aged, fat and grizzled with wiry gray beards. They are almost certainly twins. They’re wearing matching stained denim overalls caked with flaking old food with hair stuck in it. They stumble to the edge of the plateau and jump over the edge of it with a squeal of delight and fall down the side of the mountain to the bottom, there is a small house down there where an old woman lives alone. There are two black horses in the yard, which I think was the point of this excursion. I somehow sense that they are going to hurt the horses and maybe the old lady too. There’s going to be trouble, and I’d better get down there.

Going over the side, I never thought falling would be so fast. I didn’t think we were so high up. This is going to hurt.
Rather than the painful landing I was expecting I simply find myself on the ground below at the Old woman’s house. I can hear the drunken brothers and the horses out back, they’re making a lot of noise. The men are hooting and hollering and carrying on, and the horses are screaming. I have no idea what’s going on back there, but I’d better put a stop to it. I’ll go through the house, which will be quicker.

I’m in the house, It’s dark and much bigger inside than I would have imagined but also very cluttered with boxes, way too much furniture, and ancient Greco-roman style sculptures.
I’m carrying around a giant, transparent inflated balloon that seems to be breathing in and out and it’s hard to move around in here. I’m trying to avoid the old lady altogether. If I can, I would rather get rid of these guys without her involvement altogether. The balloon keeps smacking against everything and when it does it makes a dull hollow sound that reverberates through the entire house. I have to get out of here, I’m going to get caught. Besides, it’s hot as hell in here. How did I not notice that until now?

Going back out the door I came in through, I turn around to face the house. I see that everything’s changed. The house is gone as are the men and the horses and the breathing balloon in my hand has become an air filled clear plastic bag just blowing around in the wind. I crumple it to put it in my pocket, but every time I manage to get one part of it crunched down another part re-inflates. This isn’t going to work. I let go of the bag and it drifts away on the wind like a floating jellyfish to join the others that are already in the sky. In the distance I hear the brothers laughing again through a thick fog across a dusty plain. I have to take care of this; they are going to really cause a lot of trouble. They are of envoys misfortune and despair and I need to kill them.

This is going to be a long day.