You hear a scream of pain and terror that could haunt the mind. That tingling in your fingers is now to the tips of your toes. Your hands feel wet, as though sweat were falling from them in the field where you worked your land. You can hardly breathe now. As if you were flying, you feel light as a feather. As if you were falling, you feel heavy as a rock. Up and down, you fly and drop, over, and over. There is a voice around you, begging, bargaining, perhaps even pleading. You can't quite put your finger on it, it sounds familiar, but who could it be? It is time to go home, yet you can not make the journey. It is dark, and quite hard to see around you. The voice is louder, and now almost threatening. You fall, and a door is closed behind you. The ground is cold and damp, but more you can not bear of this journey, you drift out of this conscious realm.
As you awaken with a fogged sense of reality, you glance around you. You reach down for some paper to scrawl down some notes. …
