You know, I feel like I often end up being the voice of conventional narrative, the grumbling grognard who shows up to kvetch about how stories need to make sense and communicate something and other stuff like that.
And then stories like this come along and show me that I'm sometimes wrong.
That doesn't mean that conventionally making narrative sense isn't usually a good thing, but it isn't always necessary. Some stories, like this one, pull off miracles without it. Not despite lacking sense, but because they aren't tied down by little things like "sense," "coherence" and "story." I love the dream within a dream within a dream. I love that the boyfriend was also the hanged man. I love the bent and recursive fairytale archetypes, wrapped around a character of complicated heritage.
All in all, one of the best stories I've experienced in a while. Five out of five zeppelins, and they're all on fire.