Today is the day that I move into my new room. After years of hard work, my parents were finally able to accomplish their dream of buying a house. It is a cute one-story house; not too big but not too small; lots of rooms but still accessible; imperfect but not ugly. Everything about this house is great! Except for that wall. The one in my bedroom. It is painted in a shade of white that temporarily blinds my eyes. The wall has absolutely no cracks. It is unrealistically perfect. Too perfect. My parents say that I am crazy and I should be lucky that I have a wall with no problems. Yet it is so unnerving. It is as if the wall should not be there and should not exist.
It haunts me for hours. While I am trying to organize my new room and decorate it, the wall stares at me. It tries to taunt me into becoming unhinged. Well, I am not going to let this wall torment me any longer! I am going to face my fears!
I approach the wall and extend my arm. I expect my hand to touch its cool surface, but it just passes through it. Horrified, I retract my arm. I feel the hawk-eye gaze of the wall and its burdening expectations. I hear it calling my name. I slowly walk towards it and I begin to phase through the wall. After going through it, I end up being outside. I can see the truck unloading our furniture and the giant green trees in the spacious backyard. I can hear the birds chirping as the butterflies pass by. I really am outside! What in the world?! I turn around and carefully walk through the wall again. I end up inside my room and sit on my newly assembled twin bed trying to comprehend what just happened. Was the wall ever real?