4.6°C Not observed 
My time is limited. Soon my doctoral duties shall demand my departure from this dreamlike domain. With history as my only judge, I shall soon ride the 23rd camel across the bridge, into the great unknown.
Let us now return to the great saga of how I came to be Dr. Tuesday:
The Chronicles of Tuesday (Part 8)
As I was spitting chicken out of my mouth and rubbing my naked, bruised body, a bizarre happening began in the centre of the rooftop garden.
The pond began glowing and pulsating with a rippling light. Slowly from the pond’s shimmering depths emerged an aqua blue ball of light. The orb flashed slowly as it rose high into the air, till it stopped above the bridge spanning the pond. I froze.
Transfixed by this supernatural spectacle, I failed to notice the surrounding city fade into the ether.
The rooftop became mountaintop, while the garden took on an alpine hue. Blazing forth, the orb became larger until it burst into a sudden flash of a thousand Chinese Lunar New Year’s Day celebrations. When the brief light show dissolved, and the pale moonlight returned, there stood on the bridge a towering relic of antiquity.
His stature was impressive; this vision, with long flowing white robes, a wispy white Fu Manchu beard and thick set of bushy eyebrows omnisciently gazed upon my mortal wonder.
My wonder gave way to disbelief as I realized an uncanny likeness between these epic features and those of the gnome with the cellphone.
Previously, I had been chasing a midget with a bushy beard and bunny suit through the Vancouver streets. There had been nothing awe-inspiring about that rascally rabbit, yet I had felt compelled to jump off the No. 20 to chase him down.
Maybe this surreal scene unfolding before my eyes was the master of my compulsions?
I saw in his eyes recognition of my recognition as he slowly nodded to me.
His eyes knew that I knew the futility of our contemporary world.
They understood the blindness and emptiness of our technologically fuelled fantasies.
His eyes filled with a quivering emotion as he acknowledged my alienated reality from contemporary commercially driven ethos.
“Reality is a tricky thing,” he smilingly spoke in a deep-throated baritone.
“Few are able to observe its true nature. Most care not to even consider it a question. Subconsciously you know this to be true. It all began with your roommate Baboo and his strange visitor a few months ago.
“Slowly, slowly you have been noticing the cracks in the façade of your current reality. That is how you came to be standing upon this mountaintop presently.”
It was only then that I turned about and realized I was not standing upon a rooftop garden in Chinatown, but an alpine ridge in the middle of a mountain range!
“To complete your quest for truth, you must go to the Lillooetian nexus point, just beyond these mountains to the east. It is there that you shall encounter the 23rd dimension.”
With the ending of these words, the wizened old sage slowly dissolved into a fine, light mist. With astonishment, I called out as the mystic began to fade. I had a thousand unanswered questions!
It was at that fateful moment that I first heard the obnoxious “Yahoo!” of a distinctive moustache, rising up from the wooded area below…
