In the predawn hours at Le Cirque des Rêves, the departing visitor finds the grounds nearly empty, with only a few people wandering through the fading night. With sunrise approaching, the visitor weighs how to spend the last minutes—one more tent, one last treat—aware that the once-endless night is quickly ending.

As closing time arrives, the entrance has changed: the star-filled tunnel is gone, leaving only a single curtain between the courtyard and the exit. Passing through it feels like crossing a much larger distance than a few steps.

The visitor pauses by the intricate clock at the gates and notices a small silver memorial plaque beneath it. The plaque lists two names and dates: Friedrick Stefan Thiessen (1846–1901) and Chandresh Christophe Lefèvre (1847–1932), marking them as figures remembered by the circus.

A woman still occupies the ticket booth and watches the visitor read, smiling and waving as if this moment is familiar. She beckons the visitor closer, searches through papers and tickets, and hands over a black-and-white business card.

The card identifies Bailey Alden Clarke as the circus proprietor and provides his email address. After thanking the woman, the visitor turns back to find the booth suddenly shut and empty, then steps out onto the grass beyond the gates, feeling less awake outside the circus and uncertain which side of the fence is the dream.