There is green. Little else. I wonder where my mind is taking me now. Then I know the answer as the features come into view. The park. It's abandoned now, but it looks like it did years ago. It was all green, with my swing in front of me.
It technically isn't mine but every time I came here - which was a lot - I always swung on this swing.
Then there is the wooden seesaw with its cracked blue paint and red handles. Over there, behind the gate, is the monkey bars. I have got many bruises because of it. And, finally, the little roundabout for the small children, which I had always loved.
For old time's sake, I get on the swing and swing like I always did.
My dad used to push me on here. He used to pull the swing as high as he could make it go, then pushed me with all of his might. It was so fun.
Only Dad's not here any more. He's with Mum, in the fire.
My limbs start frosting over as I realise what this means. No more playing on the Wii with Dad. No more messing around with make-up with Mum. No curling up watching Star Wars with Dad. No more baking days with Mum.
I make a whirlwind with my mind as I skim over how many things I will miss. The seaside. The shopping trips. The museum days out. The theme park with those Caramel Ice-Creams.
Then, eerily, the swing next to me starts swinging. You'd think there was a breeze but it is so humid here. It swings up and down, almost hypnotising me with its swift, rhythmic movements.
Then the kid's swing next to it moves. On my other side, Matt's swing moves. They move slowly at first but climb higher and higher, not stopping.
I am forced away from my swing as it jerks forward and back. It reaches higher than the others then completes a 180° turn around the bar. Then it hits me on the head.
I fall to the ground, shocked at this development. I feel my skull. Blood oozes out. I have to stand up and get away.
Thunk.
Oh God. Not the seesaw. I look up - yes, it has started slamming on either side. I have to get away. Quickly. The roundabout starts creaking its way forward, getting swifter and swifter and swifter...
There's only one thing for it: the Monkey Bars. I have to escape. I'm running, no sprinting, away from the perilous park. I take a leap at the monkey bars and pull myself across.
Only instead of my feet being able to almost touch the ground, my feet are about five metres above it. What seemed to be an easy journey only got worse as it got higher and higher.
The bars also get longer and longer. It's stupefying and my muddled brain is finding it hard to process what is going on.
"Hey, Lou!" someone shouts from above. I look up to see it is my Dad. He can't exist, can he? Before I even know what is going on, he prises my fingers off the bars. I fall to my death.