A long, straight path stretched off into distant obscurity, darkened by gnarled trees that curved into a ceiling of leafy branches above it. The canopy was dense and heavy, with the sun beating on it from above and the air beneath it still, sheltered and cool. It was inviting yet inexplicably disconcerting.
The scene rippled slightly under his breath. Strange for it to do that, being real. He unconsciously stretched out a steady hand, as if to make sure. He felt his mind wobble and teeter over the edge as his hand began to slowly deform, becoming a part of the surreal image floating in front of him.
He shuddered. So did the image.
He pulled back, more with a force of will than with the aid of any physical strength, and staggered in the darkness.
He didn't know where he was or what he was doing there. It was all very strange. All around him was an intense, black nothing, an expanse of non-existence. But if there was nothing there, then what was he standing on? What was he breathing?
He immediately realized two things. Firstly, he could now see that he was standing on a plain white, polished marble floor, which he was certain hadn't been there a moment ago; and secondly that all this time he had been holding his breath. he immediately let it go, and began inhaling the fresh, dry air, which he had a sneaky suspicion had just been called into existence.
His puzzlement increased as he thought about the sudden changes in his environment. He decided to try and create something else and thought carefully about what he wanted. A hat popped into his head.
A hat popped into his hand.
Something else which also popped into his world at that time was a series of questions. Firstly, why in God's name had he thought of a hat before food? (as he said this a plate of biscuits appeared) Secondly, what was he supposed to do in this place? There had to be something remotely more purposeful for him to do in the place than sit around making mundane objects he could find in real life.
It was clear to him at this point that he was quite obviously dreaming. He liked it when things were clear to him. It put life in such wonderful perspective.
Just then he encountered something vague and complex that he did not understand - the window he had first looked through. It felt strange to him that something he didn't understand, and couldn't possibly make out clearly, would be present in a dream of his own making. He walked towards it: a rectangular window cut into nothing, filled with frosted, blurry, rippling visions. It would shift between these conditions, sometimes looking as if it was raining on its "glass", then as if it was a simple mirror image of its other side, and next like it was bending and twisting the world beyond. It was rhythmic, like breathing, only you could see it. The vision inside however, was brilliant and vivid. The image seemed to leap out at him from the window, transcending its invisible barriers to show itself to him, but restrained by those barriers so much that it would be held from his eyes. It was as if another world was repeatedly pushing itself up against the window of his universe, and with every one of its heartbeats, trying to fill the void of his own, newly conceived world, but was held back by the mirror of invisible glass and clear light. Visually, to his eyes, it was all mind-bogglingly confusing and entrancing to look at.
Which was why he found himself once again, teetering on the edge of consciousness in his own dream almost nose to nose with the shady path of a teeming, seemingly real other world.
He was just about fed up with this mirror thing. He hadn't gone to bed for this nonsense of being confused even in his sleep. I mean this was his own domain!
He thought about it rationally. If this was his dream he could leave it at any moment. He had already tried ending it by imagining waking up, but that had not worked. So obviously his exit had to be something tangible within this place. The only way in or out of it was this strange window. Granted it wasn't his bedroom on the other side, but it was still a hell of a lot more real than this place. If it was still a part of his dream at least it came pre-created and he didn't have to be worried about having to construct everything from scratch, especially when most parts of his creation would be completely useless. Like hats.
He didn't think beyond this point. He didn't even take a deep breath. He simply walked through. (still not over. to be continued)
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