The dream began on the cracked boardwalk outside a sideshow. The pinheads sang in chorus with their palms opened together holding invisible hymnals, riding the carousel spinning backwards and playing an upside-down melody with faceless children bucking on the plastic broncos and mares. Popcorn crawled across the dirt toward the gamblers like roaches. Ten men threw snake eyes. In her wagon, the fortune teller pulled ten arcana in a Celtic Cross, the Tower at Ten. Her amber didn’t help so she draped her babushka across a toothless frown. She pointed at the back door, which cracked slightly before he awoke.