Running up the stairs, with a red envelope in your hands, the texture is pleasing, it's soft to the touch, its tactile nature feels wholesome.
You open it, and harmony emerges, birds fly out tweeting with their angelic voices,
orange strips of jasmine spew out in all directions and bubbles of hope hover above the trees of pleasure in the distance.
You are astounded by how rapidly the environment changed into a paradise, a Golden Age, a utopia complemented by superposed skies of euphoria.
You take a few steps towards the trees of hope, and as you come to a halt at the sight of the majesty of one of these extraordinary botanical masterpieces.
You become a thirsty aesthete quenching his desire for a sip of beauty throughout the admiration of an atypical and pulchritudinous structure of Kingdom Plantae.
A euphonic sound grabs your attention from your right, you turn to perceive a flying phoenix, soaring high in the sky with feathers of fiery sentiment,
a scarlet red beak of burning charcoal and green eyes of predating glory. Yet again, you are locked contemplating the existence of such a stunning pulchritude.
You get shot, arrows pierce into your cerebral cranium, Cupid's bow aimed at you, his desire aimed blindly, blinded by Mother Venus.
You swoon, hypovolemia governs your circulatory system, looking at the ever changing skies of ecstasy, you go into blackout.
You are then reincarnated in a soothing environment, you are on top of an angel flying you through the aerosphere ever so elegantly.
Not any atmosphere, albeit it is just as transparent as the earthly kind, this one is filled with aesthetical tension. You fly towards the sun, the angel is no such higher entity, it is Icarus.
Rapidly, you are transported onto Poseidon's back and you surge into the ocean.
Down on the seafloor, you spot a plate of cupcakes, you ingest one and you feel tingling polychromatic tastes dominate your mouth with celerity. You swoon yet again.
It's Reality Now.