sustained peace?

In the dream, I ascended the lighthouse to meet the wizard who lived at the top. Behold it waivered in the wind, a small blow might cause it to completely disintegrate, the owner inside coming down with 'flu and we would all be dead in it, for it would shiver and collapse. And yet the next day when we had awoke, we were still there in it, protected by its glassy hendecagon, which had stood firm during the night, despite the threat of loss of ideological power. Half a kilometre down, the ocean had come in wild and free, and we were able to observe it in its blue-grey frenzy, safe above it.

All of the living capsule machines went into motion as it was time to join the rush-hour traffic, far above the rhapsodising fluid of pure nature that had swamped the entranceway to the city and the elegant bridge. We looked down from the glassy windows, from a regulated temperature and space of living, and glided along at an hypnotic pace.