Good Evening

It's dark and you're walking outside. It's a clear day but it's dark. You're not even sure if it's night time but you don't mind either way. You keep walking, trying not to notice the feeling of discomfort that is steadily growing inside you. The darkness begins to get to you and your pace quickens. You're pretty sure nothing is behind you, except maybe the darkness, but your pace gets quicker and now you're running. Maybe you heard something but you're pretty sure it's nothing, but just to be safe you keep running. You're now at full speed and breathing heavily. You're not sure how much longer you can take but you don't feel tired at all. You're in a different place now, still dark but more open; in a field, perhaps. The space puts your mind at ease and you think you see the sun so you give up on running, for now. You notice the ground you're on. It's not ground at all, it's a shaking, dark sea. In you go, down you go and you can't breath but you're not drowning. Deeper you go, as though pulled down by an anchor. The sun you thought you saw is now a trembling, shimmering ripple on the surface and now it's not even visible. You're moving through this slow navy gradient, into black. You're not sure how long you've been at it but you eventually hit rock bottom. You don't even wonder if you've died. You're sure of it. But the question plagues your mind: when? You walk through the depths so slowly that it probably takes you years just to approach the tiny strand of bottom that is distinguishable from the rest. It's an iridescent rock. At your touch it shifts. You place your entire palm on it and it winces. You see yourself now, touching the rock and behind you a long, spindly rod floats, pointed straight at your heart. You wouldn't see it, except for a single strand of light, pulled tight, that is reflected off it. In it goes, right through your back, through your skin, through your bones, through your heart and out through your chest. And the light has passed you, too; no pain. The needle proceeds to anchor against the wincing rock. The beam of light turns red and you see your body losing all its color as the red, now green, now blue, now yellow beam gives the rock every hue of you. You stand, now monochrome and look up as the sea rushes to meet you and you shoot up through its surface. You feel the warmth of the sun hard and hot on your skin. You open your eyes and focus on your ceiling. The sun is beaming through the window, diluted slightly by the white curtains. You bring up your hand, cold but full color. Good morning.