Ooh. I wouldn’t want to fly anywhere close to the stratosphere without some pressure chamber around me. I used to have this recurring dream where I was walking down a road in Chicago, which I can only describe as looking like the Diagon Alley reproduction in the Harry Potter movies. Cobblestones, windy, curvy, little shops and strange people and dark. I think there were even gas lampposts lining the street. It was cool. And every time I had this dream, I’d go into some of the shops, and talk to some of the people, but there was one shop door that I always wanted to go in, but it was never open. The door of this shop was this huge, thick, solid wood door that looked like the door to a dungeon or something. It was like to door to the underground bar, Neo, in Chicago. If you know that place…nevermind. So then one night, I was having this dream and the door was open! So I went in, and it was like a museum of oddities: shrunken heads and mutated animals and stuff like that. That was it. I woke up, and I’ve never had the dream since. I’m kind of bummed, because I really liked that dream. It felt so surreal. And I can’t think of anything in my life at that time that I “overcame”. It was odd.