It had certainly been a long day, and the commute home would be worse. One train out of the inner city, another to get past the skyscrapers to the "ex-suburbs" then a 10 minute walk to your complex. 15 floors up, 15 doors down the hall. The door unlocks to your arrival and opens without much hassle. You close the door and the lights slowly illuminate the pale one-bedroom condo.

A small couch paired with a steel coffee table, a cramped kitchen, and a reinforced glass door to the lanai. Bereft of decoration and minutiae, you focused only on getting your meal then hitting the Sim. Reheated leftovers, purified water, and a quick trip to the restroom. Once ready for bed, you walked into another sparsely decorated room. A bed, low to the ground, and an end table for your lamp and alarm.

You pull into bed, lights out in the condo, and synchronized your table alarm to your Nano's. Embraced by the sheets and the cooling of the air recycling system, it took only two breaths for the Nanos to kick into gear.

As though your bed had caved into a pit, everything slipped away in a dark tunnel. It wasn't quite like falling, but nothing felt still. When the bedroom disappeared in a pin point that you could flick away, the darkness contorted and changed. Everything felt underwater and weightless, but you have no issue breathing. In fact, everything smells like sunscreen and the darkness reverberates with the sound of the ocean. Your eyelids feel like lead weights but once you blink hard enough, the sky opens up.

Bright blue with small painted clouds. You're no longer lying on your bed but in the sand, and several palm trees shelter you from a sun that isn't there. You sit up and see crystal blue oceans with small waves on shore, large ones far out. Sitting up, the smell of something cooking wafts to your nose. It's far... no, it's coming from that large white building up the shore.