It was just before daybreak when I first heard her speak. “Come,” she said, “follow me.” I obeyed and effortlessly entered a misty world followed by an art gallery steeped in the scents of canvas, paint, and turpentine. The walls held paintings of haunting mountain landscapes with unfamiliar peaks and valleys. I turned from the paintings and looked with the eyes of a child through the gallery windows, where blue and lavender snow-capped peaks reached above a valley floor and into an azure sky. A brook undulated across a grassy meadow. An evocative flute melody floated toward me. A mountain breeze caressed my face while the earthy scent of damp moss and willows stirred a longing in me.