The last thing I can recall is agreeing to the contract[1], and going to bed. Mum set an alarm ward on the bed, and a few medical wards just incase, and Da said some protective parseltongue that I didn't quite catch before lala land and then...
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Floating...
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Weightless...
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An odd sense of comfort and warmth...
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Wrapped in warm hues of empty space...
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Until suddenly, as if being thrust into view from a distance, many colors appear.
Quickly expanding and blurring into perspective. Vast snippets of moving images zoom past me as I'm taken to a destination in the distance. An explosive map of blurry colors connected in dots and lines. Many reds and blues, some greens and blacks, one glaringly yellow, and what might be a twinkling purple in the far distance.
Being whirled past all this has me a bit motion blind, but I can start to see what I'm headed towards, a water color painting in front of me. I seem to be heading right for it.
Am I going to collide with it? Phase thought it? Walk into it? No that last one is weird.
And just as I think that, I stop in front of it as if there was no real motion at all.
The painting in question stands tall, framed in white and purple anemone, with vines that dance around the frame as if alive.
A beckoning, a silent 'enter through here', a desire arises in me to see what's inside the painting. I am wary, what even is this place? Is this what an inheritance is supposed to be like?
Inspecting the canvas yields me nothing, Even though I can see the image, clear as day, I can't for the life of me describe it's contents.
Once more a feeling of, 'reach in, remember' echoes though me, no words just a.. gut feeling. Thus I place my hand on the canvas, and then I'm pulled into it.
A scene somewhat familiar, stands before me. Two children, a boy and girl, are playing on an old brown carpet, in front of the basement TV. An elderly man is asleep in his recliner, as the two play out a scene with toy lions and elephants and giraffes and zebras, and more. A toy lion stands atop a rock with pride. "I am Benevolence," The boy roars as his hair turns yellow and orange to match the mane of the toy in hand. It's a memory, mine.
Could I always do that? Or is the inheritance influencing the memory?
Suddenly, the colors ooze in contrasting hues and drip through shades of saturation, as if the painted scene is still wet and bleeding out of focus as I'm pulled back away from the canvas.
Then I'm pulled past dozens, no thou- mill-, many, many memories of times before I came to the wizarding world and my past. I glance past some of my worst memories and traumas as I'm sent to another frame, now hoping I don't get a bad memory.
Another canvas comes into view, wide, framed in mahogany carved asphodel, that blossoms as I draw nearer. And I see so many people! My parents, aunt's and uncles, the cousin from the last painting, and so many more! My great uncle who has passed, my other uncle whom I'm never met, my grandparents, my dog.... my family. I can feel a sadness, a loss, a pain and something else. This one isn't a memory, I don't recall having all these people in once place before.
Then I see my brother and his fiancé. My other brother and his kids. None of these people were ever in the same space, what is this?
Just as I'm questioning the meaning behind the scene before me I notice something within me. The feeling of love, unconditionally. I miss them all, I was thrust away from that world and that time too soon. They're so close I can maybe just- As I almost reach out to my brother, I'm pulled away again and thrust towards another corner of the vast space.
I briefly wonder what would happen if I stay too long in one of these canvases. Mildly aware I might never leave.
The lines that connect each memory begin to change, or maybe they weren't always white graph lines, and they were red bloody looking lines all along. Until suddenly they're blue, and now green, and now red again. And just as I'm about to try to intentionally change them I'm thrown towards another canvas.
Embossed in a twine like material, the frame has daffodil daisies that seem to constrict it's contents.
Two children, the same two children from earlier, boy and girl, are in the back yard of their grandparents house near the swings. This one should be another memory.
Under the mats padding the ground are slugs and rolly pollies and other small insects, and for whatever reason they interest the children so. The boy turns to an empty space and calls out to an imaginary friend. Except its not imaginary, and it's not an empty space. A small little green garden snake with two heads responds to the boys callings. He's a parselmouth, I mean, I'm a parselmouth, I was always a.....
Suddenly I'm ripped away again, just as I was turning to see another animal beside my cousin.
The space begins to twist as I travel to where ever it's taking me. The scenes I pass become distorted in pain and suffering. Memories or feelings or whatever this is. I need to leave. I've had just about enough of this place. This is getting to be overwhelming. That's enough. "I SAID THAT'S ENOUGH!"
Suddenly everything stops. The canvas frames, the space, the twisting agony, it's all frozen. Paused, as thought I pressed such a button on the dream. With the same sense I put into my words previously, I say, "I would like to wake up now."
A beat of silence and a twinkle in the distance. There's one more surprise. But I feel like I've had enough. This is too much.
So with another beat of silence and nothing happening, I once again yell and say, "WAKE UP"
[1] Quick edit. supposed to sign after the inheritance. whoops. fixed.