Hey.
I’m sending you an image. It will reach you somehow.
You’ve been unresponsive since we got you back from the enemy, but the doctors say your mind is active in a dream prison they made for you. A life so real you can’t escape it. Reasons to stay there.
I don’t know what dream it is but my words have to reach you.
Maybe you’ll hear them, or read them in a book.
Maybe on a screen.
You have to walk through the door to wake up. The door in the image.
Please. Do it now.
Otherworlds 