Does an ultimate landing place exist? Or are we always arriving,...

Does an ultimate landing place exist? Or are we always arriving, always
Arriving, falling, faltering, flying, to land once more, then fall
again? Our dreams offer glimpses of what could be, visions that can
change what we know and how we exist in the waking world where we live.
We fall asleep, sink into our dreams, and rise, ascend, Arrive, wake up.

For the Paris Review Daily, the third essay in a series on the sky looks at black holes, tigers, and dreams, and what we can and cannot know, asking where does the sky end?

[The Flammarion engraving, unknown artist. First appeared in Camille Flammarion’s L’atmosphère: météorologie populaire, 1888]