You take the very first draught.

You fall into wrinkled grey sheets.

You wait with bated breath,

then slide into a sleepless dream.

Slide into a dream...

Slide into a bright, warm space...

Your body rests, but your spirit floats

into this gorgeous warm light.

It is yellow like sun, aged photographs,

or dandelions peppering grass.

It feels good in you and through you.

You can't hold in a gut-laugh.

"Welcome to the other side."

A young man with a playful grin

stretches a hand towards you.

"Go on. Take it!"

Fingers touch.

With laughter like breaking bells,

he tugs your arm, and you both run.

Through a sunlit garden,

Through tinkling bluebells and tulips,

he leads you through the yellow light.

You gasp at the edge of the garden,

taking in the rich, earthy sights.

"It's beautiful here. Every inch of space

blooms with green, with growth and life."

The young man's smiling face

caught in a heavenly glow

turns to look you in the eyes.

"This garden is YOU. Didn't you know?"

You pull your hand from his,

but he won't let you go.

His grip tightens and your fingers ache.

"Hey, what happened to the light?"

Just then:

the garden had lost it's halo

and instead it was dull and wet

that smelled of endless rain and yet

nothing was green; the flowers vanished.

The wetness growled down from the sky

roared over you,

shook the earth beneath you,

splintered your bones.

Splintered you.

You fell onto your knees in the sharp dry grass

And when you looked up, no one was there anymore.

No one was there to catch you.

The roar sounded, lightning struck

and the ground rippled beneath your feet.

Onto your hands and face you fell

as fire caught a nearby tree.

Fire.

Roaring.

The blaze grew and spread and fanned;

flame and water licked down over you

as the mans voice echoed out of nothingness,

"This garden,

this garden,

this garden

it is you."