In the beggining, there was darkness. Nothing existed, darkness consumes all. Darkness reaches into the deepest corners of everywhere and then some.

And then, the act of creation!

A roast chicken on a silver platter. All the trimmings, roast potatos, yorkshire puddings, gravy…

And then, it revolves. The silver dish rotates in the air, spinning, showing off it’s companions.

And it turns, allowing my non-existant eyes a mouth-watering glance of the golden skin of the chicken.

And it spins, tantalising my ethereal taste buds, mingling its smell with the chemoreceptors that are in my nose that isn’t there.

And so it goes on, spinning, watching, smelling, spinning, watching, smelling, spinning, watching smelling…

And then I see the mildly illuminated expanses of my room, not yet fully understanding the meaning of this dream.