The room was spinning. Fast and around. Revolving and moving. My back was flat on the floor, my eyes closed so I could keep myself from falling through the rest of the levels.
Lights and darks. Shadows and starbursts. Back and forth. Hitting every corner of my mind.
I tasted orange. Heard the screech from violet. And tried to bat empty closed eyes away from the unseen sights now plaguing my subconscious.
I peeked and regretted it immediately. The four walls started to rotate, splitting into rows and rows of alternate boxes, cracked and chipped with age, wear, and tear.
It caused a sickening effect. Loathing, arrogance, nausea, all from the unnecessary divisions.
Where was I? What was I doing? Why was everything spinning?
The room kept going. Never stopping. Cycle unbroken.
My hand reached out in the reflections. My face turned dim and shallow. And after several more rotations, I finally found the one I needed.
The one I wanted.
I poked a frame. Caught the edge and added my blood. The revolutions froze, shimmered then switched their directions.
Until they slammed back together. A kaleidoscope fixed at the center of the universe. Everything dabbed with just a drop of blood.
The room stopped spinning.
Why? What did it all mean?
All I could do was watch and wait.
When? Where was I going?
Diving into a perfect circle of…