It's a fantasy role-playing game.

DM: You are Vex Vex'ahlia, a half-elf ranger . You are the member of the famous group of adventurers. Previously, you goes to the center of town to find Yennen, who tells her she will have to meditate under the Sun Tree to be granted a vision of her quarry. From there, she will track down the quarry and decide its fate, preferably bringing back some manner of trophy.
DM: As you all separate and scatter off into your own business for the day in Whitestone. Vex'ahlia, you find a comfortable place at the base of the tree. You sit, cross your legs, look up, and close your eyes and concentrate.
Player: I feel itchy, but I'm okay. I'm going to stay still.
DM: What thoughts are on your mind? What do you wish to do? What is your approach to this meditation?
Player: Okay. He said I'm supposed to meditate on the tree? Or on Pelor? I'm going to try thinking about the tree first. A lot. I'm thinking about the leaves swaying and I think about finding a quarry and, you know, hunting things. Then I'm going to start thinking about what it feels like to walk through the woods barefoot and hear the leaves crunching underneath my feet and hear twigs breaking as I hunt creatures and track them.
DM: Okay. As you focus on this and you can hear the breeze. You extend what best can be described as your current consciousness or imagination to the breadth of the Parchwood that consumes the valleys of the Alabaster Sierras surrounding Whitestone. You focus. And you remember the journeys you had in the trees when you first arrived. The wandering hunt, the phantom individual wandering the trees in the distance that you didn't quite mark. And you're curious about that moment and you start thinking about the people that have lived here their whole life and think of the toil. And then your eyes open and the sun, which was just beginning to come over the hills into the sky, is now far past the horizon. You're unsure how much time has passed, but you've had no vision. You've had no words, no sign, and you're now starting to hit into the afternoon. You've probably been here for a number of hours at this point. And you're starting to feel the sweat drip beneath the armor. Discomfort's settling in a little bit. And you're beginning to feel that conscious difficulty with separating what your mind is trying to do and what your body is telling you it's not enjoying.
Player: Okay. I should've learned Speak With Plants from Keyleth. I'm going to sink down and I'm going to take my armor off and try to feel the bark beneath my back.
DM: Okay. So you turn around, armor off, just wearing your undertunic, and you press your back against the actual tree itself, leaning your head against it, and you close your eyes again and begin to concentrate. At this point in the day, the sun has crested over, so the shadow is still hitting you from the side of the tree. So you're not as warm as you were before. You focus, and you concentrate again on the expanse of this landscape, the strange difference between the warm midday, the cold mornings and evenings, and the freezing nights that bring mists and low clouds that shroud Whitestone in this somewhat middle-to-northern area of Tal'Dorei itself into the mystic, dark mythology that has encapsulated it since it was first founded. After a while of concentrating and letting your mind wander, your eyes open again, and now you're hitting sunset. It's growing colder, the breeze has picked up a bit, and you see some clouds making their way slowly from the wind of the southwest, cresting over the mountains on the western side, the Alabaster Sierras. No vision, no words. You can start seeing now people are walking the street, watching you strangely as they pass. You hear horse hooves hitting as they pass by with carts and people stop and stare and awkwardly whisper to each other and keep walking.
