On campus but I felt lost, deceived, confused; Visible to many people, few of whom I knew.
In a fantasy, we searched littoral gates, scrub-land and trekked across frozen mountains. I argued with my old master in Isengard, and lost.
Transported underground to an oracular room, Colorful shadows on the wall show visions of the far corners of this middle-world. I turned away from those portentous scenes, to a staircase that towered before me. Half-a-dozen chests perched upon its odd steps, tragicomedic faces enameled into them. Atop sat a grand piano, two saplings sprouting from its strings and reaching up toward an attic skylight. From this lofty window a voice uttered a strange, soft dialectic incantation, and a light shone bright enough that I could climb out through a ladder wrought of sunbeams.