climbing


As you climb, it seems the ground beneath your feet is more like plastic than grass or gravel. Like those playground gravels.

"Don't worry," whistles somecreature nearby. "It's not real plastic. Just like all the dreams here are not real dreams."

The creature comes into view: some sort of bird. It seems to be craning its neck at an unpleasant angle to face you.

A red bird of some sorts with a gigantic mouth, hatching from an egg that is also its body.

"What do you mean, not real dreams?"

"Does that hurt?"

Head back down