Renditions of an apocalyptic sort, breezing through my mind. That feeling like just before a heavy Spring thunderstorm where you’re not sure whether anything will be left standing afterwards.
You can feel it in the air: protest chants, random chance, sultry dance on fire of molten steel and lava.
Soon enough there will be something that resembles a fourth dimensional waterfall, replete with a rope bridge that spans from this side into the next, and you can walk freely betwixt. There will be a woman on each end, one named Freedom, the other, Perfection. You’ll have to decide before you get there which side you’ll spend eternity.