An owl sits in a tree.

It cocks its head 180° and coos, then its head goes back and it coos some more. This repeats. An innocent curiosity.

A snake slithers up the tree, moving so organically.

It stays on the trunk, leaving the owl be.

As it rises it also grows in size, ending up an enormous serpent, spiralling upwards.

The tree also grows, magically, without damaging the coiled serpent, rather both growing together.

So too grows the owl, which had been immature but was now grown into a formidable presence.

You are sitting in a meadow. The sun is in the sky directly in front of you. You are staring directly at it.

A shimmering silver substance (is it even a substance?) descends and envelops you.

It seems this is yours now, or maybe a part of you?

You remain staring at the sun in reverence.

You take different poses, all prayerful, devotional. It seems you can feel some kind of transformation taking place.

You look full of emotion - gratitude?

You realise you are crying.

The sky darkens to a beautiful purple colour. Purple doesn’t describe it well enough. There are streaks of magenta and teal beautifully blending into a masterpiece.

The sun remains, now as a white orb.

A host of angels appear to circle the sun, like rings of angels in Dore’s picture.

You remain, crouched in prayer.

The scene goes black.