Two cities had been built underwater. No, not in a dome. They were undersea but in the open.
No one yet lived in them. Shiny and new, rich with skyscrapers, monorails, and modern architecture, multiple parks and roller-coasters were also visible. Finished as mirror images, only one would exist when it was all completed. The final stage of completion was set to begin.
I was excited. I wanted to live in those cities. I marveled at the water. Amazingly pristine, I could see forever. To live in one of those cities, whichever one was chosen, seemed special. Come on, I urged, finish the city. Open it.
Enrico Colantoni, an actor, was sent out to finish the process. He was to match pieces, like a giant jigsaw, to one of the cities. That would bring it to life and banish the other one. Then people would be allowed to enter it. Fingers crossed that I could enter.
As Colantoni picked up the first huge piece and studied it (a red roller-coaster on tracks at an amusement part), talking to himself, everyone (including me) was pounding on glass windows and yelling advice at him, telling him where to put the piece, something that we were able to clearly see out there, from a distance.
A heavy, repetitive thud interrupted the proceedings. As all paused to wonder what that was, a muffled voice said, “What?”
Much more sharply, a second voice said, “It’s over. He’s called it off.”
“What? muffled voice answered.
“He changed his mind. Stop.”
Disappointment swept me. Who changed their mind? What was going on?
The dream ended.