The emptiness swelled, engulfed and swallowed her into its nothingness. Her feet frozen into the the equally black ground, the chilled air sucked the moisture and warmth from her skin. She lost her sense of smell, her mouth was dry, she couldn’t taste her own saliva. There was no sound. Her own heart was inaudible.

She turned around, but she couldn’t step backwards.Behind her, on each side, inside and outside lay the same nothingness. She shut her eyes, hoping to see something, but behind her lids there was only blackness.

She could stay planted here indefinitely, or until her knees trembled and ached. Then she’d fall and be sucked into the empty ground. No, she had to go forward. She put her hands in front of herself, feeling the air swirling between her fingers. She slid one foot forward, then the other, snakelike. Hands waving, feet sliding. She continued forward, gaining confidence, advancing. Around the edges of her vision, the blackness lightened, the lightness spread toward the center like a damaged roll of 35 millimeter film, then turned into patches of grey. She blinked her eyes. This must be an optical disturbance. A reaction to the absence of light. The grey patches remained when she opened her eyes, now taking on a blue hue, the color of a mourning dove. The patches swam toward the center, coalescing into a beam of blue-grey light. She reached her hand toward the light, it moved further away.

The illumination gave her courage to proceed, to lift her feet, take real steps. Not entirely confident, she kept her hands in front of her, feeling for unexpected masses. All was clear. She lowered her arms and strode toward the beam.

The light shrunk to a pinpoint and vanished. She stumbled, then righted herself as a blue door emerged from out of the blackness. It was that particular blue, evoking the sea, featured in postcards of Mediterranean villages. She stepped toward it. Unlike the light it didn’t recede, or fade away as she approached. She ran the palm of her hand along the surface. It was smooth, but she couldn’t identify the material. Not wood, not glass, more like ice, but not cold. There was no door handle. She pushed gently. The door shattered soundlessly into rounded globules of blue light. She stepped over them.

The dark no longer hindered her journey. Although she could see nothing, she knew there were no obstacles. The absence of sound, smell, sight comforted her. Not having anything to react to relaxed her. The only sense she experienced was the prickle of air against the hairs on her arms.

The light re-appeared. Once again, beginning at the edges of her vision and moving into the center. Eagerly, curiously, she hurried towards it. It was tinged with red, the last flickering light of the sunset before night overtook twilight, the first light of morning, reflecting off awakening clouds. Then becoming redder, larger than the sun, but not at all blinding. Gentle to look at, inviting her to come closer. She stood on tiptoes to reach to feel the top of the orb. Unlike the door, it had volume, round and full, the texture of woven cloth, nubby threads. She warmed her hands on the fibers. Emboldened by the friendliness of the substance, she embraced it. It hugged her in return. She pushed the ball gently forward with her chest. It responded to her touch, and bounced along the ground. Yearning to be one with it, she slid her body over it, as if it were a giant exercise ball, but it took no effort to stay balanced. And there she stayed, surrounded by warmth, softness, safety.