You are dreaming.
At least, you should be, yet the scenery has not changed.
It’s as if the hands of time have been wound back. Here you are — once again standing in a little room.
You seem lost, moving listlessly from left to right, forward and backward. Looking disappointed, you then stand completely still and stare—
Your body has gone completely rigid, as if you might have realized how off everything is.
There are several changes, as if this were a “Spot the Difference” puzzle.
The cushions are askew. The game console has completely vanished, as if there’s no longer a need to kill your boredom. A gentle light flows in from the veranda through the sliding glass doors. It’s no longer closed off, no longer empty — now it is a place of freedom.
The greatest change is the sound.
The sounds that humans are either unaware of or learn to ignore: those of the pulse, breathing, the inner workings of organs and muscle, the creaking of joints and bones — those sounds have suddenly become audible.
It feels as if, by falling asleep, you have finally begun to live.
This is supposed to be a dream, yet it feels like anything but.
Like you were dreaming up until a short time ago, and now you’ve finally awakened...
The line between dreams and reality has become blurred......
You slip over to the interior door, as if expecting something. Your movements are so precise, like you’ve already confirmed something.
Gently, your fingertips drift up to the doorknob.
Suddenly, the screen on the CRT TV flickers to life. On the screen, an eerie geometric pattern, taking the shape of a sneering eye, blinks. It fixes its gaze upon you, unrelenting.
However, you don’t seem to notice. As if to show how desperately you want to flee this suffocating little room, you lean against the door with all your might and push it open.
The door opens with a creak that is more akin to a deep snore, and you abruptly tumble through.
And, as if temporarily paralyzed, you freeze in place.
Once through the door, an incomprehensible scene unfolds before you.
There is nothing but an expansive darkness. Beneath your feet float several things that look like they could be either gods or devils, and yet they make no attempt to interact with you, as if they have no interest in you, content merely to flash their wide, detestable grins.
You take a step forward, ill at ease and well aware of the presence of those things.
Glancing around, you see several doors. The doors are not being illuminated by anything, and yet they stand out against the deep darkness, as if floating there.
One, two, three...... not counting the door you initially opened, there seem to be a total of twelve doors.
✦ ✦ ✦
Positioned like the numbers on a clock face, the doors are evenly spaced and form a circle.
None of the doors look like ones anyone would want to touch, nor do they look like the kinds used in everyday life. They have creepy designs on them and look as if one would need a great deal of courage to open them.
At the very least, the doors don’t look like the type that would yield heart-pounding adventures, romance, or illuminating discoveries.
They’re more like scabs, where opening them could lead to a spattering of blood.
There is a door that looks like the interwoven legs of a spider. A door covered in blood, as if someone with gaping wounds on their hands tried in desperation to get it open. A door that looks like it has sprouted a pair of teary eyes. A door with a light so garish that it induces headaches, blinking on and off like the neon lights of a dangerous shopping street.
One by one, you approach each door and take a good look at it.
Even though these doors are very much tangible, you only look at them, apparently reluctant to touch them.
You appear to be deliberating on which door you should open, as several thoughts fall into place.
For example, since the doors are arranged like the numbers on a clock face, should you open them starting with the door in the one o’clock spot and go clockwise from there? But perhaps “something” here wants you to open the most outstanding door first. On the other hand, there’s no guarantee that opening the most boring-looking door won’t yield the most horrific outcome......
However, you finally give up on thinking it over.
There’s no rhyme or reason. Nor does there appear to be a right answer. At least, no one will guide you to the right answer.
In which case, thinking is futile.
Though no one is there to hasten you, it seems as if your distaste for the sneering forms in the dimly lit room is so great — you obey the common wisdom that doors are a thing you open and go for the door nearest you, placing a hand gently on the handle.
It opens.
You step inside.