I thought about this on my way home, as short as it was (and I shortened it even more by hurrying back before dark), and then more as I paced in circles around my room. All the while, my imagination conjured one vision after another, which I tested on the scale of their allure to me.
I imagined myself as a renowned antiquities dealer, casually conversing with the director of British Museum like we were friends. In this vision, I was his equal, and my collection had artifacts that even he lusted after. I had riches and glory I envisioned in my past, and my father would've been prouder of me than both of us could imagine together if he was still alive.
It was a really pleasant dream, but it felt bland, as if lacking something like a dish lacks salt. I knew now that the world—and the history of it—was deeper than any human historian could imagine.
My dream changed.
