I'm sitting in the front room of a tall, wooden house built on top of a mountain. I'm gazing at the distant crags and clouds that surround my home. One of the clouds grows huge and dark and hangs over my mountain and my house.

Rain pours down for days. Sheets of water flood the rocky slopes. The foundations of my house crumble. The house tilts and slips down the slope, gathering speed like a stick thrown in a stream as it nears a waterfall.

My house zooms down the mountain like a brick on a waterslide. I'm still sitting in the front room. My nose is pressed against the window. I stare in horror at the vast chasm that opens below.

Then my house is on a choppy sea that seems to cover the whole Earth. The house feels like a well-built ship. I climb to my upstairs bedroom to have a better look at the sea. In my bedroom stands a ship's wheel. I grab the wheel and steer my house towards the distant, watery sun.