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Not quite asleep, but not awake, the droning murmur plays in her ears as the door opens before her. A room full of options, not one quite clear, lies in the dark. She reaches for a door - a red door - and falls.
The world is dark, but a reflection of light glows in the puddles on the ground. The world pulses with each step and splashes each time she steps into a puddle. She can’t see herself in them but knows she’s there. Somewhat, she’s there. But nothing else is, save for the lone lamp shining the smallest glimmer of light.
An umbrella. An umbrella appears before her, the only object besides herself and the lamp. She picks up the umbrella. It's raining. Not one drop grazes her skin, and the old smell of fresh rain doesn’t once hit her nose.
Walking with her umbrella, she finds herself in a familiar forest, feeling more real than the reality in front of her. The sounds of the woods graze her ears, not natural but familiar. Another lone lamp stands beside her, accompanied by a vending machine. A familiar sight. She wanders the lonely road. An infinite path, stretching out further than her eyes imagine. She walks, the path looping in front of her. Everything repeats, mirroring in her eyes. She turns around, and the road is different. The music in her ears is richer. The scene is blue and clearer.
She bumps a cone with her foot. She feels it, almost wet; almost real. In front of her is a man - a familiar man. He’s lying there, sleeping soundly on the ground in a pool of red. The cones surround him. It’s a scene she’s seen before. It’s faded, but she’s seen it. She stares at the man and blinks.
She finds herself back by the doors, the room full of options. She feels herself feeling more, her breath becoming louder. She reaches for a door - a dark door - and falls.
The world in front of her is dark. Nothingness sprawls around her, consuming her dulled senses. The world echoes, making her feel numb. But she feels again, finding a pale gate in front of her. She reaches through it.
A looming heat presses on her as a vast pale scene stretches before her eyes. She blinks, and the dried plants around her waver like paper. She turns and hears a faded noise. The faint sound of music right behind her, yet so far away. She turns and sees them. Right ahead, a group of familiar faces. Familiar, yet so twisted and different. It’s as if the familiarity warped into something fantastical. The sound of the music, the brightness of the music, rings in her ears. She walks toward them but freezes in her place. She can’t get any closer, and her eyes burn as she sees their smiles. She turns.
The ground behind the green gate changes to a gray and faded brown. A single figure stands between a metal shack and a pole, his face sunken and desolate. She looks at him, unable to make out his features. His skin, gray. His face, hollow. She reaches out, and he fades. The feeling weighs on her, feeling sluggish. Desolation. Each metal shack stares at her with each empty eye, drowning her. She trudges through the gray ground. She sees the figure again, looking up at him. Faded, but clearer. She reaches out and falls.
The doors stand in front of her once more. She stands tall, reaching across from herself, to the next door. She falls.
The darkness presses her as the low light from the candles screeches in her ears, tearing at her eyes and burning her skin. She runs, a sense of panic blowing through her throat. She runs, the brightly colored pyramid entering her peripheral and slowly nearing. It comes closer, and she runs right through it. She runs through it, into a purple patterned path, blinking as her eyes adjust to the colors in front of her. A familiar face appears; the face of someone she holds an equal friendliness and disdain toward. The face gives her a cold stare, leaving as quickly as it came.
There’s a closet: a familiar closet, looking like an item out of her room. She opens it and sees a mirror. But when she reaches to wipe the smudge off of it, she realizes it’s not a mirror. She sees herself, sleeping soundly and silently - almost like she’s dead - hiding behind the closed doors. A sense of dread washes over her, as she feels something behind her. She turns around and sees the purple path has turned a bloody red, looping and stretching like a pit of hell. Her breath hitches as she turns back around, only to see the same outstretched hell as was in front of her.
Each time she blinks, her vision grows darker. She looks down, below the winding path, to see nothing but emptiness. Not darkness, but pure nothingness. The nothingness clings to her back as she walks, wandering without a sense of purpose or meaning. A clearing in the path appears in front of her, a lamp post and vending machine lighting up the red road. She stares at the vending machine, not even a gnat buzzing in its light. She presses one of the buttons. It’s broken. The light flickers and she feels a cool breeze on her back.
The forest. A dark, dense forest, watching her every move. Yet, the forest is almost calming. She wanders to the end of the world, finding a lone train off a track. It’s lit up. She steps in, a passenger already sitting there. She sits next to the passenger.
“It’s a pretty moon tonight.”
She doesn’t look at the passenger, nodding in agreement and saying ‘yes’.
The words slip out of her mouth only a moment later, as she finds herself surrounded once again by the doors. She opens a door similar in color to the path from before, finding herself surrounded by nothing but graffitied colors on the ground and a looping drone in her ears.
She follows the trail, finding a lone bicycle in front of her; the only object standing. She hops on and pedals, a stagnant breeze barely hitting her face, not moving even a strand of her hair. She continues to follow the path, finding only a standing porta-potty in front of her. “Men’s”.
She keeps following the path, only to end up back at the door. She slams the bike's brakes, spinning it in the opposite direction as if it’s made of dust. She veers off the path, into the empty void in front of her.
A blue building stands in front of her, the sliding doors waiting to open. She parks the bike next to it, leaning the handles against the blue tile. She reaches forward, the doors opening automatically. She steps through, and they shut firmly. Everything feels cold.
She finds a broken escalator and walks down it. People shop in what looks like an empty mall. She tries to get a glimpse at their faces, but they walk away every time she approaches. She turns back, climbing another broken escalator to another set of doors. She peers out, finding a bright morning sky.
It’s day again. She can feel the freshness of the breeze and the morning sun on her face. She looks out, seeing that all too familiar city she’s come to love and resent. She resists the urge to smile.
She finds a broomstick in her hand, and without a second thought, she knows it’s a magical broomstick. She mounts it, runs, and finds herself flying over the city. A smile crosses her face, and she can almost make out the outlines of the few people walking the streets.
The smell of gas and rain hits her nose, as she feels a thud. She falls from the sky, her broomstick failing.
The doors surround her once again. She reaches for a pinkish-white door. It’s icy to the touch, and as she pushes it open, a freshness hits her face, feeling nothing but smooth and real. The whiteness of the landscape calms her eyes, the emptiness and serenity echoing through her mind. A few trees surround a bed. She lays on it. It’s cozy.
The snow beneath her feet doesn’t crunch; it only glides. Despite the weather, she feels warm.
A figure appears in front of her – a blue woman with long hair. Just as she appears, she fades, her existence like a fleeting memory.
An icy igloo crosses her path. She ducks into it, seeing a hole in the ice. The water is pink below. She reaches her hand into it. It feels like nothing.
She blinks, finding herself in a pink snow outside the igloo, surrounded by a pink sea. She takes a step further, her sights seeing nothing but a dreamy land. A balloon drifts in front of her, and she grabs it. She floats with the balloon – weightless – across the shallow sea. She slips, her ankles sliding into the dry water. She grabs the next balloon she sees, taking her back to the pink snow.
She sees a little house in front of her that looks like a cotton candy castle. It smells distantly of sweets. She pushes through the door, finding a familiar room.
A familiar girl stands in front of her. Poniko, her mind echos.
The girl doesn’t fade away. She can tell the girl is talking to her. She looks around the room. Pink floor, pink wallpaper, a bookshelf and an armoire, a small desk with a chair and a lamp, and a green rug spread across the floor, matching her knit sweater. She sits down next to the girl. It’s calm.
She stands up. The more real it feels, the less real it gets. She brings her hand to the light switch and flips it.
The room grows dark. The girl is gone, and a shadow stands before her. She’s sucked into the shadow; she can hear her screams ringing out.
A bad memory. It feels like a bad memory.
She hears her name.
Then she wakes up.