I am walking through a tunnel again. It is pitch-black but I know from experience that it is huge and round. Suddenly a circular hole of light appears in front of me. A spark in the night. I follow it for what seems like a routine walk I’ve done since I was 3 years old. This time I don’t stumble once.

Outside of the tunnel, bright rays light up the sky. I look down, squinting in the strong sunlight. My natural blonde hair glistens in the radiance as I scratch my head. I am standing in a field of flowers. But there is something strange about them. It isn’t the colors or shapes, as exotic as they are, but the vibrant designs unique to each flower. I bend over into a crouching position to get a closer look at the disturbing markings, though not sure what has compelled me to do so.

Silently and without me noticing, a breeze comes and then picks up force until it suddenly lifts me into the air. As the winds wrap around me, a feeling of joy and freedom washes over me. I feel like I could float forever but the strong winds start to swirl and spin around, picking up even more force. I am spinning in circles, my light blue nightshirt flapping in the chaos. The air currents spread outward and I watch as the petals from each of the delicate flowers are ripped from their stems. I watch, since I can’t resist the winds now manipulating me like a thousand wriggling hands and fingers, tilting my head back and pulling my eyelids open. I struggle against them for a moment, but in the end relax my body. The winds ease up and I watch the all too familiar scene manifesting itself in front of me.

The petals are being placed together in mid-air like the pieces of a puzzle. They form a massive sheet of paper, brilliantly colored. The strange markings, as I knew they would, form the unearthly stylized words of a poem- or as I believe it to be: a prophecy. Unwillingly yet feeling compelled to, I read aloud the lines I see.