And then I breathe in, and everything becomes hexagonal and pixellated and then it spins clockwise and I cough slightly, from the smoke, and it feels like there is something in my mouth – this bothers me, it preoccupies me, and then the creatures in the golden room tell me to stop coughing, it's okay, to let go, just let go of it, you're doing it to yourself, and at first I don't, but they are beckoning me and they are so warm and so open and with such love in their eyes – so friendly, and I look for something else behind it, but there is no malevolence, no hidden agenda or slyness. Just love, and welcoming – and I am in a hall, more beautiful than anything I have ever seen before, so beautiful it takes my breath away; a cornucopia of colours and feathers and beckoning creatures, nymphs and all manner of magical creatures welcoming me towards them and displaying all of their finery, and I feel beautifulhappywarmsafelovedforgivenandblessed and the satyr, a man with a beautiful and handsome face, who has been at the forefront of those telling me that it will all be okay, to let go of every fear and insecurity ascends to the centre of it all, and as I look at him I become aware that his horns look very like the cube, suspended from the ceiling, swinging slowly and gently as though breathing out, and suddenly that is what I am looking at, an ornament suspended from the ceiling, and I cry out “No! Don't go!” and fling myself into the arms of the friend who is sat beside me, solid and real and warm and flesh and blood, and I half laugh half cry but fully neither, and tell him that I want them to come back.

(What he doesn't know is that I can still spy, elegantly, one of the nymphs discreetly pouring herself back into the rafters like some sweet nectar, around the edges of the room)