IT STARTED OFF THIS WAY, some kind of coastal area, with me flying over beaches (and sunbathers) out along the coast, through patches of fog and wisps of clouds, and then landing in a cave complex built into the side of a cliff, like those high bluffs outside of El Pajar on Gran Canaria. The interior of the cave system was lit up with glowing stars, placed in dazzling geometric patterns. These had clearly been installed by human hand, and this turned out to be a new Estonian spa. Jüri the Singer was there with his chiseled good guy face, like some kind of Sinatra on the Baltic, playing some sort of aquatic bowling game with waves and silver metallic pins. I remember the woman at the desk in the spa said, “Oh, Jüri? He comes here every day now.” I joined him in the game. Later I found myself in a school, or some other kind of public building. Merike was there with some other musicians. We were about to leave, but I just couldn’t find one of my socks. I searched through all the cabinets and inspected all the hooks. Then, when I thought I had exhausted my search, who should I see but Jüri, the Baltic Sinatra, standing at the end of a row of lockers. He was leaning against the final locker quite casual, as if nothing was amiss. Jüri the Singer was holding my missing sock. “I believe you’ve been looking for this,” he said, tipping his fedora hat. I took the sock, put it on, and we left the building together.