The following account was recorded in the agent's log during your transmission: Water's pouring out of a huge, overflowing bucket that's just sitting in the middle of a small, rustic farmhouse kitchen. Umm, the air's thick with the smell of fresh bread and woodsmoke, but somehow it feels really humid and tropical, even though there's snow covering the windowsills. The bucket's somehow refilling itself, and the water's cascading down into this old-fashioned well that's just sitting in the middle of the room, like it was always there. A flock of pigeons is roosting on the kitchen cabinets, cooing softly to themselves.