Jones has been watching scenes from Raiders of the Lost Ark recently.

He has turned off all the lights in the room so that it better approximates a jungle temple. It is late in the afternoon and the blinds in the bedroom are drawn, but still, light glows from around their perimeter, diffusing into the room like a liquid.

And Jones, wearing a broad brimmed hat, is crouched over a small, green cube. It’s the Ark of the Covenant, this cube. He’s being very deliberate as he studies it, and then very delicately he picks it up, quickly replacing it with the AC remote. But it doesn’t work! He hasn’t counterbalanced the weight properly and the trap is launched! Arrows are shooting out of walls! He starts to run, waving the belt from his mother’s housecoat like a whip, as a giant boulder rolls after him! It’s a grim situation, so he makes a desperate leap toward the bed. He claws at the sheets like they’re vines, but they keep giving way! He’s slipping into danger! “Dad!” he calls out, “Dad, help me!” And I, in the role of Indiana Jones’ father, reach over and pull him to safety.

So many different fantasies being realized at once.

And then, both happy, both catching our breath, we sit there in the strange light of the room as if living within a jewel.