She awoke to nothing, a blank canvas of nothing. No color could describe this empty room like place. The feeling was so brilliant it was frightening. The absence of existence was blinding. The canvas warped and twisted into amazing figures. Things only children dream of when ignorant, Wolves with scaled wings and horns, horses with fire for their tails and manes, and beautiful humanistic figures with feline features, they all danced their dance of beautiful birth. Swirls of color began to form around them, some as harsh as fire, as soft as dust and as dark as thick blood.
She woke as though she didn’t want the beautiful world of creation to end. The world was so harsh compared to hers. She wanted her beautiful world back. The enjoyment of the imaginary world became an obsession. The creationist world slipped further from her grasp as she grew to become an adolescent.
When she grew to forget the beautiful experience, she then again experienced it. It was the near end of her teenage years and things had reached the state of repetition and bore. She got to her college dorm late in the night going into a heavy sleep induced her dooming addiction to narcotics.
She knew the feeling of forbidden power instantly. It was not beautiful unlike the first episode but the current experience was dark and gory. The figures were becoming warped and sharper, now horrific, tearing at each other like common animals. Ignorance was no longer available to her. The images of sexual violence, abuse and carnage were sharp and vivid. Live became no comparison to the sharpening existence. This was no longer a beautiful creationistic world, it was reality.