Mr. Fisher's consciousness seemed to sink into a murky dream like a quagmire. In the hazy slumber, he felt his consciousness continuously falling, plunging into that fragrant, mire-like turbidity.
But that falling wasn't unobstructed like freefalling, it was more like countless unclear forces coming from all directions, madly pulling at your body.
In the darkness, numerous eyes watched Mr. Fisher's frail soul descend.
In this extreme loneliness and panic of the unknown, Mr. Fisher struggled as if drowning, but his body could no longer break free, and he exhausted all his strength just to open his eyes in that murky dream.
As he tried to escape from the darkness, in the dreamscape before him, a huge, indifferent moon hung coldly in the night sky, watching over him like an unmerciful God.
That was, the bright and exceedingly cold moon.
An indescribable pressure came down with the pale moonlight, the intense loneliness and oppression quickly waking Mr. Fisher from his slumber.
