Stick Chick and Margareth Anna hear the vacuum-sealed wallop of the revolving door behind them. Though it is a relief to know that it thwarts dangers lurking mere steps behind them, it also seals their fate within the confines of the narrow block corridor that leads to the tunnel. Gray and cold, the walls have long, green-white mineral streaks with gooey, blackish spores growing proliferously. Fearing that the moldy slime will attach itself to their lungs, the two breathe shallow breaths that make running all the more difficult in the musty-smelling, dank air.
As if by a miracle, and nearly breathless, they find themselves displaced in a dark space underground, transported in hologram, a parallel depiction of themselves. Ahead is an open expanse with a blue vinyl, foam-padded path like a vaulter’s lane. An impossibly high wall faces them perhaps 50 yards away.
Paper thin glints of sunlight creep from each edge, and an opening above the wall looks like the only exit. The cavern quickly collapses around them creating claustrophobic notions pressing them forward faster. It is immediately clear that there is no alternative but to scale the wall. Taking on a clownish appearance, it laughs at their approach.
Video images flash surrounding them like a seaside funhouse interspersed with mirrors and strobes. A dissonant tune trickles in through a mounted megaphone above them. Stick Chick becomes nauseous. Still hand-in hand and forging forward at top speed with Margareth Anna, she leaps and smashes violently against the wall. Bouncing from it like a wet tennis ball, she lands on the floor of her bedroom in a tangle of sheets.
Dazed, Stick Chick wriggles free. She stands and shuffles across the bedroom, down the hall, slipping into her bunny slippers. Hair askew and without her glasses she ambles to the kitchen, pours a mug of coffee and sits. Her heart still pounding, she ponders her dreams. She snarfs her coffee, giggling to herself and wonders aloud, “What the hell was that all about?”