I'm walking through the park but the path keeps changing and I can't find where I'm going. I get distracted by small mammals in the undergrowth. I think they are squirrels and then realize they are rats. They look up at me as they scurry by. They have human faces. They ask me for apple slices. I pull slice after slice of apple out of pockets I didn't know I had. Secret compartments. Extra-spatial dimensions. The rats thank me politely and patter off. I wipe the apple juice from my hands onto the thighs of my jeans, then raise them to my face for inspection. My hands smell like fried chicken. I find this deeply disturbing. When I move my hands away from my face I still smell chicken. The air smells like fried chicken, the flowers smell like fried chicken, my shirt smells like fried chicken.
I feel… gross.
I raise a hand to my forehead and wipe away a thick layer of gelatinous chicken grease. The smell gags me. My vision blurs. I nearly vomit. I start running to escape the smell and the grease and the nausea. I repeatedly roll my ankle on stones in the path, regaining my balance each time. But it hurts. Grease continues to flood out of me, puddling around my feet as I run. I slip and fall.
I keep falling. It's very dark.
When I am no longer experiencing the sensation of movement I open my eyes.
My entire world has rotated 90 degrees. I am conscious of this fact, but am, nonetheless, unable to orient myself. I am lying flat on my back, convinced I am standing up. My body is floating in a sea of stars.
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