You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask. Jim Morrison –––––––– My head doesn’t hurt and, when I touch it gingerly with my fingertips, there’s no bump or tenderness. All the same, something doesn’t feel right. I can’t put my finger on it; I simply have a deep-seated feeling of wrongness. I also have no idea where I am. It’s a tiny room with one door and one small window. There’s nothing else inside. My limbs are heavy and sluggish as I edge over to the window to peer out, and I’m shocked when I immediately recognise the Dreamlands’ vista. I rub my eyes and double-check. Not waking up in the forest as I normally do adds to my sense of unease. I twist round, scanning the area as best I can. The window is so small that it’s difficult to get a proper look but I seem to be very high up. I stare down at the narrow streets below. Then I suddenly realise where I am – inside the fairy-tale castle at the edge of the town. No wonder I’m gazing down from such lofty heights.
