Horatio dreamt that he was at the foot of some impossibly fragile and delicate stairs. There was an invitation for him to go through the yellow doorway, but although he could see that there was another life, albeit on another stage beyond the door; the way was tantalisingly blocked by the bar of the window frame and the very window itself. Silky green liquid flowed thickly in pipes nearby and he could touch a strange solid sky that seemed alive through a window alongside.