As I neared the dark shape, it appeared to be a single tulip growing in the sand. It seemed to be black, but with a slimy sheen that reflected a grimy rainbow of colors, like a puddle of motor oil. The tulip was approximately 2 feet tall, but cast a shadow that would have been more fitting for a 30 foot tall flower, even though the sun was very nearly at its highest point in the sky.

I reached the flower and stopped roughly a foot away from it. I felt the gentle sea breeze stop abruptly, as did the sound of the sea, a fact I only noticed because of the sudden absence of both. There was no sound at all, in fact, nor any movement of air. Looking around, I noticed the sky, gray wall, and sea all continued to exist, although the water had completely ceased movement, except for small, erratic and slightly repetitive motions.

I knelt down next to the tulip and bent low to smell it. Despite its appearance, it smelled wonderfully of vanilla and lavender. Carefully, I reached out to touch the tulip, glad that it didn't appear to remain infuriatingly just out of reach, as the water had done.

Suddenly, I wasn't quite so sure that I was really glad about this particular fact. Almost immediately upon touching the tulip with my hand, I felt an unsettling sensation in my body. My muscles felt sore and weakened, and my stomach felt almost nauseated, but not quite enough to count as nausea. A bitter taste of saline and scorched mustard filled my mouth, causing the nausea to become a very real sensation. I found the muscles in my hand to be unresponsive, preventing me from letting go of the tulip.

I began to feel as though I was being squeezed against an immovable object. The air around me began to shimmer, subtly at first, but gradually more violently, until I couldn't discern anything around me at all. The pressure against me increased until I felt as though I was pushing through the very fabric of reality.

For a moment, my eyes felt sluggish, then viscous, as if they were turning into jelly. Then, abruptly, my eyes were staring into themselves. My body felt like it was trying to separate into two identical copies, and my eyes were suddenly looking into my pupils; then, they were inside of themselves, staring at the cornea, retina, muscles, and nerves that made up the inside of my eyes.