First I’m running through a golden field of wheat, nothing but mountains in the distance and the blue sky above. With my hands fully stretched out, I can feel the tips of each piece of wheat as it gently brushes against the palms of my hands. The grain begins to shrink below my hands, but I realize it’s not shrinking, I am growing. Then I realize I’m not growing, I am flying.
Through a hole in the sky, I am flung into a field of blue. Much like the prior field, I run with my arms stretched and palms down. The golden sky above and mountains in the distance. The tips of this wheat cut and bruised my hands, so I flew through the hole again, flinging myself back into the golden field. Traversing this wheat field was gentle and relaxing. When I reached the mountains, they towered above me, thundering and launching rocks at me. I dodged and was nearly crushed more than once.
Once more, I flew through the hole in the sky and landed at the base of the mountains. These mountains had a staircase carved into the not so steep side of it, allowing me to climb them without much struggle. When I reached the top, an invisible pathway bridged the mountain tops together, allowing me a leisurely, safe passage across the range.
This time I am conscious of the pattern in which I have been travelling along in this world. Instead of walking the path, I fly through the hole again to cross–what I believe–to be the easier, less painful way. Only now, I am not flung into the opposite world. It remains black, and I am trapped in the void.