I was left alone in the room, my thoughts swirling like autumn leaves caught in a windstorm. Twenty-four hours had passed, and a thousand questions ricocheted inside my skull, each one demanding attention. My tongue felt heavy with unspoken words—how could I possibly articulate the impossible situation I found myself in? Just yesterday, I was... where? Jung's words echoed in my ears:

"You were drowning, my lady.”

I am — what?  

But ….  Come to think of it, the forest with its emerald canopy, the thundering waterfall with its silver mist, my cotton dress stiff from having been soaked through and dried by the sun—it all aligned too perfectly. 

I'd seen this scenario play out on movie screens: bewildered characters thrust into unfamiliar worlds through inexplicable time slips. Now I find myself living that same bewilderment, my reality warped beyond recognition.

What cosmic loophole had I stumbled through? What obscure law of quantum physics could explain this displacement? My fingers tremble as I press them against my temples, desperate for answers that science couldn't provide.

I try to think of the past memories now that I am alone in my supposed bedroom with its blush-pink walls and gauzy curtains that billow like ghosts in the afternoon breeze. But instead, I am consumed almost entirely by this new life, its tendrils wrapping around my consciousness so tightly that my memories from before seem to dissolve like sugar in hot tea! 

I meditate by opening my eyes and staring directly into the ceiling's ornate plasterwork, lying down on my back on the cool hardwood floor, my spine pressing against its unyielding surface. 

People have always insisted that meditation must proceed with eyes closed, but to be honest, you can squeeze your eyelids shut until wrinkles form and nothing comes into your mind because your thoughts are too messy, too frantic and overstimulated—like a drawer stuffed with tangled jewelry— to even process everything.

This is why I prefer to look at one single thing while I lie down and lose focus on my surroundings, letting the ceiling's white expanse become an empty canvas. It gives me a space to imagine and think of next moves right away, like plotting points on a pristine map, instead of wading through the swamp of chaos in my mind before finding that elusive clarity.

The morning sunlight filters through the gauzy curtains, casting a golden haze across where I lie. My breath comes in slow, measured waves as the scent of jasmine incense curls around me. In this crystalline clarity of dawn, the questions rise unbidden from some deeper place within my soul.

" Who am I really?" The thought echoes in the stillness.

" I am me,"  I whisper, my voice barely disturbing the air,

"But I choose to be Athene who lives by her own rules."

The name feels both foreign and familiar on my tongue.

"Why do we come here?" My fingers trace patterns on the worn fabric beneath me.

"I don' t know..." My shoulders tense slightly.

"Who can help me with my identity crisis?"

Suddenly, names flicker like distant stars;

"Nate from the old world...Master... Ethan... they must hold pieces of the truth."

" But is it possible to find them now?" My heart quickens.

" No," I answer myself,

"We're in a place we barely navigate." The room suddenly feels vast and unknown.

"Then where are we really?"

"They claim it's my supposed home and family." The words taste hollow.

"But do we know them? Do we understand how this society works?" My reflection in the small meditation mirror shows furrowed brows.

"NO." The force of my certainty surprises even me.

"What about the magic things coming from Jung’s eyes?" Hope flutters like a trapped bird.

"It doesn' t matter for now." I close my eyes, centering myself. 

"There are many mysteries before us. But our path is clear— focus on Athene' s life and her family first, then social integration, and only then seek truth from Ethan. Everything else must wait."   

My hands settle in my lap, resolute.

The tangled knot of thoughts in my head has finally unraveled into neat, orderly strands. It feels as if the fog has lifted, revealing a clear path forward for me to walk. 

But still, I will lie down on this cold tile floor a bit longer, my cheek pressed against its smooth surface, because I need to gather every last scrap of courage, every reserve of energy after being constantly worn down by the relentless gnawing of curiosity that has kept me awake for three straight nights.