<strong>Copy</strong><br/><br/>As the Witness moved, he could perceive the liquidity of objects.  Their edges were blurred.  Their hardness a poor facsimile of the real thing.  He moved as if through a watercolor.  When he submitted his cold question, a voice, his voice, answered.  But it was not here.  It was not anywhere.  The voice emerged from the deep recesses of his super ego.<br/><br/>"You know how," the voice said, the same grave voice that had submitted its question before.   "This is a vision of a likely possibility.  And you know why you are experiencing it.  You are cursed."<br/><br/>When he opened the book, nothing truly happened -- for what was to happen had not happened yet.  But the room ceased to be.  He was transported to another place, the text, legible though the book was no longer present, describing the present, just like a book from a dream.  It was of a description of a street.  And lo, there were people.  And there were people described.  And lo, there were people.  Each was categorized.  Each person was deciphered.  There was a complete, almost transparent, over-simplified description of every individual.  And then, they weren't there.<br/><br/>"You are sleeping," his voice said.<br/><br/><strong>OOC:</strong><br/><br/>You may posit any questions to your id.<br/><br/><div class="spoiler_container"><div class="spoiler_header" onclick="hideSecond (this);" role="button">Spoiler: Click to Show/Hide</div><div class="spoiler_body">None</div></div>