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?

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…