My eyelids fluttered slightly like a butterfly’s majestic wings in response to the warm sun hitting my facethrough the glassy windows of the red train. I glanced over at the individual seated across from me. There was a familiar, soft ambience around that ebony haired girl. When she turned her head, putting her full face into view, I recognized her immediately and fought the urge to embrace her. It was my childhood best friend that I missed so dearly, we lost contact so early in our lives. I tapped her shoulder, but she had no reaction. In fact, all the people on the train seemed to take no notice of me, and as I examined more closely, they were all people I was close to throughout my life. I saw my grandfather with his wool-woven coat he always used to wear, my aunt who made sure each of my summer visits were magical , and even the driver was my kind neighbor who used to give out iridescent-wrapped caramel candies to me.

I stared into space, trying to process everything when the train suddenly pulled to an abrupt stop. I got off the train, where I was greeted by a magical natural landscape of clear raging waterfalls, ponds with shimmering orange-scaled goldfish, and rolling hills with creatures of all kinds. Deers grazed the earth as finches covered the sky, heading back to their nests. I exhaled, and the sweet slight scent of natural wind rushed in my face, the clouds in front of me were massive in size. I seemed so small under these earth-sized clouds, like a speck of dust in the wind. I stood in place, my eyes widening with sparkles like stars under the summer night sky. I spotted a homely, traditional cottage in the distance, with scented smoke coming from the chimney. This was the place my grandmother spent her elderly phase of her life in and where my child self used as an escape from the dark side of the world. I took the winding dirt path to the cottage and gently knocked on the wooden door. An old, sunken-cheeked, granny answered, the door creaking open. It was my grandmother. She led me in without a word and tenderly handed me a bowl of creamy rice porridge. The living room I remembered clearly, its dim and mellow atmosphere. I dangled my legs off the leather sofa, flipping through childhood books I used to read, and turned on the tv to my favorite old cartoons. I felt enlivened. I lived in that cottage for what felt like forever, spending peaceful days on the 1900s-style couch peering at this paradise through the eyes of what seemed to be my child self.

One day, I stepped outside on a beautiful spring day, and stood in silence for a moment, admiring the vibrant cherry blossoms above my head, it’s sturdy branches reaching towards the cloudless sky. All of a sudden, a blinding white divine being with flowing hair like a river, elegant posture and grace approached me, hovering. She had the clouds of the sky stitched together into a thin fabric as her robe. Her piercing gaze shone down upon me, and spoke with her hand reaching out, “I’m your guardian angel, let me take you to the end of the overworld, where you can then be judged for heaven or hell.” I followed the star on earth with no choice, and she, using her powers, created a yellow balloon for me. I held on to the string, and it lifted me infinitely towards the sky. Up, and up, and up I went. My eyelids fluttered open a second time, instead this time, as my sight came into full focus, I found myself in my old bed again, in reality. I yawned like an indolent cat, and rubbed my eyes vigorously. Time to start another uneventful day, just a cycle putting itself on repeat.