I find myself in a room where the colors seem to be alive, constantly shifting in hue and intensity, casting prismatic light across every surface. The atmosphere is thick with a sense of the surreal and the mystical, as if I've stepped into a dream that I cannot awaken from. The walls pulse with soft, changing colors, each shift resonating with the beat of my heart, creating an intimate symphony of light and emotion.

In the center of this room sits a tongue drum and a hang drum, both instruments adorned with intricate symbols that seem to tell ancient stories. As I move closer, I feel a connection to the past, as if the melodic tones are calling out to my very soul, inviting me to play, to connect, to remember.

Suddenly, the room opens up, revealing a breathtaking scene: a waterfall cascading down into a crystalline pool, surrounded by shores adorned with artistic flourishes reminiscent of Polynesian designs. The beauty is otherworldly, like something out of Moana’s enchanted lands. The water sparkles under an ethereal light, each drop seeming to hold a universe of possibilities.

And then, there are the women. Five of them, bare and radiant, their skin painted in shades of purple, green, blue, white, and gray. They move gracefully, each step a testament to their otherworldly elegance. Their presence is both commanding and comforting, as if they are ancient goddesses brought to life. Their focus is fixed on the man seated upon the throne, serving him with figs, their garments woven from textures that remind me of fig and pine trees, a blend of nature’s bounty and human craft.

In the midst of this divine assembly, a man sits upon a throne. His smile is perfect, a symbol of divine acceptance and regal authority. He wears his hair in eight long two-strand twists, a white t-shirt, jeans, and a purple cape splattered with blood. In his left hand, he holds a golden scepter-like cane, adorned with indigo glitter, the bottom resembling a pencil tip. In his right hand, he holds a plate with a grapevine, also held by the purple-colored woman. The throne itself is crystal silver, white metallic, and exudes vibrating qualities that feel like a gentle massage or pressure of energy. It plays a soft, bold tune in D minor, a melody that resonates with my very being.

Behind him, the vast ocean stretches into infinity, shimmering under a light that feels both ethereal and alive. It seems to hold secrets and mysteries within its depths. The throne is adorned with three golden spikes, each entwined with red and black roses that have pleasant, pyrite-pigmented thorns, soft like leaves.

The women surround the man on the throne, their voices soft and reverent, whispering, “I love you, Hazel, king of darkness, divine, and secrets aligned.” Each word is a caress, a promise of love and loyalty. One by one, they kiss him, their lips leaving an imprint of devotion. One woman carries a bowl of grapes, the fruit a deep bluish-purple, almost glowing with life.

We are on a shore, the sand beneath my feet soft and yielding. The man on the throne looks directly at me, his eyes holding the wisdom of ages. “You are me, and this is for us,” he says, his voice resonating with a truth I feel deep within my bones.

A chalice of purple indigo wine, adorned with a shroom, appears in my hand. I raise it to the man, to myself, to our shared destiny. We toast, and as the wine touches my lips, I feel a surge of power and unity. I am dressed in a robe, its fabric whispering secrets of the night. The man, my reflection, wears a purple cape splattered with blood, a t-shirt, and jeans. The juxtaposition of regal and casual speaks of a balance I am yet to fully understand.

In this moment, I know that I am both ruler and servant, both divine and human, and that this vision is a glimpse into a truth that transcends time and space.