I was attending a mass. It was on the rooftop of a skyscraper. The priest was probably from one of those splinter Catholic sects because he was wearing regular clothes and he celebrated with his back to us, facing the east as the sun rose from the horizon. It looked like we were worshipping the yellow disc. It felt like a pagan ritual and the people around me didn't feel like they were traditional Catholics.    

I was hearing mass with them and sometimes I wasn't.    

Sometimes I was standing on a makeshift platform or an unstable plank that jutted out over the edge. I was dangerously close to falling but standing there was, somehow, something that I had to do. I don't remember why.