Standing in a room painted red, staring at a book on a table. There are no windows, there are no doors, a light swings from a rusty cable. Music plays through the walls, voices speak through the floor, a chill runs down my neck, I spun around, tripped, then landed on the floor.

The air was sweet, the sand was warm, the water splashed our feet. Walking on the beach the waves began to form, two became a beautiful three, then time brewed a terrible storm. Then she flinched with gritted teeth and in her eyes a look of scorn. Then she turned her back on me, her halo turned into horns. Then she vanished from the dream leaving the sky broken and torn.

The book slammed shut and the room began to shake, then a cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows, and walked over to where I lay. Then a door appeared on the red wall, and the cloaked figure stepped outside. He was holding a sword in his left hand, and a list of names in his right. The cloaked figure smiled at me then vanished out of sight.

Standing in a room painted red, staring at a book on a table. There are no windows, there are no doors.

I must be dead.