Welcome to Strangely

Zara looks around and finds herself alone in a beautiful garden. She dips her head a little and walks through a trellis of ivy, while the hem of the long white dress she is wearing trails through the dew on the green grass under her bare feet.

She leans down and her fingers brush lightly on a rose so red, it is like the colour of your cheeks when you are caught glancing in the direction of the person you love, that person who does not yet know of your existence. The petals are bright with the colour of the sky when the sun hides from the moon, dipping under the horizon and leaving only a regal glow as a reminder of its presence.

Even though the colour of the sky above her head is still blue, she can clearly see a constellation of five stars in the shape of a cross, just above her head.

Zara is not familiar with the many constellations of the stars, but she knows this constellation. It is the Crux Constellation, or as she knows it, the Southern Cross, a wonderful cross more glorious than all the constellations of the heavens.

Even though she only knows it from sight, she now knows, as if she has always known, that the Constellation Crux is said to symbolise a need to sacrifice ego-driven instincts in pursuit of fortitude in the face of adversity, spiritual advancement and wounds that can never be healed. A sign of natural life given up, and eternal life obtained. Atonement, finished, perfect, and complete.

Looking around her, it feels as if someone is watching her, but she cannot see anyone.

A voice she does not recognise says, “You look beautiful in that dress, Zara. I knew you would.”

“I don't understand,” Zara says. “Where am I?”

“You're dreaming,” the voice says.

“You're in my dream?”

“Yes. In dreams, you can do anything. You can dance, love, be surprised, and you can die. Did you know that if you die in your dreams, you die in real life?” The voice continues, “I am your conscious. I know your every thought and desire.”

“What are you staring at?” Emily asks.

Bewildered, Zara focusses on Emily. A strange feeling rush through her. It feels as if she is dreaming as if asleep, yet she is only daydreaming. Daydreaming so deeply, she did not know about anything that was happening around her.

“You’ve been staring at nothing for almost an hour. Are you okay?” Emily asks concerned.

“I was daydreaming, I think, but it was as if I was actually there,” she starts, confused and a little concerned. “In my dream, I was in this beautiful garden, so beautiful it would be difficult for me to explain so that you can really understand how pretty it was. It did not feel like a fantasy, though, or a made-up place. It felt so real. I could feel the wetness of the dew on my feet.” Zara glances down at her feet, which are not bare. “I could feel the texture of the rose petals under my fingertips.” She lifts her fingers to look at them. “I feel kind of strange. It feels as if I am standing with my feet in two different worlds.”