I came through a gate into a field of bees. I was carrying a big bag of cement in both arms and walked into a field of bees and they flew all around me in a circle. I saw Francis through the window. Up in the sky was a blue circle and all around was a field of bees. I put the bag of cement on my head and the bag became so light and the circle became light, the dust as white as alabaster. I shone as a pillar with a blue halo and I saw Francis and his nose was a white triangle and his fingers had become the fingers of a tree-frog pressing white pads against the glass. The bees formed a huge circle and I wached Francis's mouth moving slowly though I heard no sound except the buzzing of the bees but I knew he was saying follow the bees. The bees are your friends and they will show you the way. And they moved from garden to garden and I ran behind them until they settled high above a small grassy roundabout in a cul-de-sac. I stood in the middle of the roundabout and above me was a bee halo circling endlessly buzzing in the sun. The bees circled faster and faster and when I put the bag down they were able to lift me up and we flew above the houses and gardens before they set set me down again back in the cul-de-sac where the new houses sat in new gardens and all the trees had been cut down and minature ones planted in their place all the same age except one lone giant redwood rising above the red roofs. The bees rose again and circled the top of the redwood and in their buzzing I could hear them tell me to call Francis. Tell him you know the way.