The mansion (maybe it was more of a compound) was built on a sort of floating foundation that sat right off the coast of Antarctica. The puzzling thing was that there were some green mountains in the distance, and the air had that thick, pleasant Carribbean quality to it. Everything was white, white as snow, even the air; there was a thin haze creeping around the compound, yet visibility was incredible and extended all the way to the out-of-place green mountains in the distance. Perhaps the haze was a result of the glaring white glow that surrounded us. The whole scene was just strange, as the compound just floated there in the arctic waters (which were clear as crystal and had a white mountainous ocean floor not far below). Strange creatures were jumping out of the water all around us, spraying the liquid crystal mist across our faces. Chilly on the face maybe, but I couldn't quite grasp how it felt.
This was a tropical winter wonderland, whatever that meant. I was still trying to decide what I was doing here.
How could I describe a place that I have never been to before that is so strange and unreal, yet so familiar? There were environmental contradictions everywhere, and they blended together to form a place that felt so right. So secure.
I was in the waters now. My body was bracing for the piercing cold, but the waters were a strange luke warm, almost neutral, like I wasn't in them at all.
There were creatures everywhere along the ocean floor. Some were like fish, some like mammals. Many of them had fur and spines and bright yellow eyes. One of them darted past me (a jet black monster of spikes) and in that moment I sensed a flick of intimidation. There were bad signals down here now, bad vibes. Was there danger here? Was there danger above? No, only a nervousness. A rising nervousness maybe? On the verge of panic? Where was this place? How did I get here?
After that, nothing. Nothing at all. There's a place out there, recurring.
