It was very vivid here. There was dry, cool air; leafless trees and shrubs; colorless sand that glittered magnificently in the sunlight. The faintest breeze lifted her hair and pushed it back away from her face. She stood at the top of a hill, and a clear path descended from her feet to an empty clearing at the bottom. And just beyond the clearing was a grey stone wall, covered in ivy and lichen. The emptiness, the serenity, the chill…it awoke something inside of her. The tranquility here felt distracting; it was like she had forgotten something important.

Without really thinking about it very much, Sarah began walking, following the path in front of her that led to the stone wall at the bottom of the hill. When she reached the wall, Sarah turned right, following its length. The stone seemed wet; when she reached out to touch it, her hand came away covered in silver and translucent glitter. The faintest nagging feeling skittered across her consciousness and disappeared again, leaving behind only a feeling of panic. Sarah quickened her pace; rather than ambling along purposelessly, she was now cantering forward, looking for something. But what? A door in the wall?

…Sarah felt like she was floating…her eyes could not focus and her muscles did not respond like she wanted them to; instead of going this way, they went that way. Sarah struggled under the covers of her bed, tossing and turning and trying to turn the vague shapes and colors surrounding her into something that made sense…she heard a voice. What was it saying? It sounded beautiful, low and melodic and golden…it was familiar…she knew that voice. But if Sarah had been more coherent, she may've been surprised to discover that it awakened two simultaneous and conflicting emotions inside of her: terror and comfort. As it was, the voice triggered a visceral response. Sarah clung to the warm body beside her and screamed…

It seemed strange to Sarah that she had not yet encountered anything. The world seemed dead, in its emptiness, in its monotony. Everything was some variation of orange or gray or black. Even the sun in the sky seemed to have reddish-orangey-brown undertones. The bite in the air and the color of the atmosphere made Sarah think of it as autumn here. Which meant winter was just around the corner.

Sarah shivered and lifted her hands to turn up her collar. But she found that she had no collar, and her clothes were not what she had remembered putting on. Glancing down at her legs, Sarah thought, Hadn't I been wearing a skirt? But no, she was wearing high-waist, straight-legged blue jeans, and a flimsy white gauzy shirt that fell to her thighs. And a large vest she had almost forgotten about, white and covered with scrolling gold patterns embroidered on the front and a large buckle in the back. I haven't owned clothes like these in many years.

A faint thought crossed Sarah's mind, and she noticed a small stagnant pool just a few feet away from the wall. She crossed the short distance and peered into the water, looking at her reflection. She did not realise that a faint bubble of hope had begun to form until it burst, making her stomach muscles tighten. The panic from earlier caught up with her, and before she knew it, Sarah's head was hanging over the pool and her stomach was heaving but nothing was coming up. A few minutes later she slumped on the ground near the pool, exhausted, with tears streaming down her face.

After a few moments Sarah became aware that someone was watching her. She looked up, and a small fat man with big round eyes and an even rounder nose was perched near her on the edge of the pool. He wore a red cap and carried at his waist an assortment of sparkly jewels. Around his wrist was an elastic bracelet with plastic beads.

"Hello, Sarah," he said quietly, in a whisper so low that Sarah could barely hear him. Yet she understood him all the same.

…Sarah's stomach clenched in pain and her eyes hurt from crying and her throat was sore from screaming. She had calmed down now, and gained a slight bit of coherence for a few minutes, and James had given her a cup of tea with a shot of whisky and a little bit of lemon juice and some honey. She was sipping it very slowly, only a small mouthful every few minutes, because she was afraid if she went too quickly she would lose herself again. James wrapped his arms around her, tucking her head into the space at his shoulder where it fit just so perfectly, and he quietly hummed a song. Every once in a while the melody touched on something familiar, but mostly he was stringing notes together in a meaningless pattern, making it up as he went along, and Sarah closed her eyes and melted into it, letting the notes crash against her like heavy waves. She was vaguely aware of James taking away her cup of tea and setting it down, but she felt herself drifting away again, riding the notes up and away and out the door and into the sky…

Sarah was not surprised that this man—dwarf?—knew her name; she was certain that she had perhaps been here before, and had surely met some of the people living here. She only wished she could remember. Sarah tried to blink back the tears, but they wouldn't stop coming, and the little man moved closer and patted her awkwardly on the arm. She turned and rest her head against his shoulder as more tears erupted, and she felt him tense but then relax as he grew accustomed to the weight of her.

Several moments passed and the dwarf did not say a word. Then, very solemnly, he whispered, "Shows what you know, don't it? You take too much for granted."

Sarah's sobs slowed, and then they stopped. As she lifted her face away from his shoulder, she hiccupped. She peered at the dwarf momentarily, and then asked, "What have I taken for granted?"

"Your friends, Sarah."

…and just like that, Sarah's mind came back to her. What had just moments ago been a blur of dark shapes materialized suddenly, and she recognized her surroundings as her apartment. The soft surface she was sitting on was her burgundy leather sofa. The warm body she was leaning against was her devoted loving boyfriend and also her TA, James. The cup of liquid in her hand was warm, and soothing. And now, she remembered.

"HOGGLE!"