IT DOESN'T MATTER
back
You stop thinking about it.
As you travel further on in the blue landscape, you come across a flat plain of stone, illuminated by what appears to be a crowd. An indistinct clamor surrounds the area, barely becoming any clearer as you come closer. Occasionally, you can make out a voice - I'm here - stinging at your head, but it's drowned out quickly. As you shake your head, you briefly grasp for something, as if there was someone following you. There isn't. Unconcerned, you press forward.
You would try to blend into the crowd before you, but that might prove difficult. The crowd is entirely made up of ghosts. They pay you no mind - their attention either distant or locked in front of them, like someone woken roughly from a dream. Slowly, you start to slip through the crowd. As you push yourself through, you move to look back into a ghost's face. The visage is smooth, like a tumbled pebble, with a single too-large eye peering out of the right side of their face. They aren't looking at anything, just ahead.
Your gazes lock on each other, an odd expression crossing the ghost's eye - like a long-lost friend trying to recognize someone. As you try to make out any familiar details on their body, your footing begins to crumble, eroding from right where you stood. It's a long fall down a rocky hill from there. You rub your head, twisting a knot out of the back of your neck. As your eyes flutter open, they fix on a building, and its name echoes in your head.