There were two kinds of people in the Astral Plane: the people who wanted to be there and the people who didn’t. Not everyone fell into these two categories at first but they quickly learned to. That made no sense but then again: it’s the Astral Plane! Follow along please.

The Astral Plane was filled with strange rolling hills of pink lavender and blue flowers. The wind, such as it was (for it was not so much wind as it was a screaming billowing gust of terror), blew around these hills and turned them into an animated cartoon. The kind from the 50s. The sky was a black abyss. Constellations peeked out through the impenetrable darkness and glittered like weak soup onto the Astral Plane.

What do you do up here? That’s a good question. We can’t ask anyone because conversations simply do not occur. Instead, people observed. They wandered the velvety hills and soaked in the strange cosmic majesty of this disorienting dimension.

A woman popped out of a hole in the air roughly three feet above the ground. She fell onto the soft grasses with a loud shout of surprise. The portal behind her closed. These portals appeared frequently. Sometimes someone fell out of them and sometimes guests of the Plane tried to leap back into them. If they were successful, they risked everything. The portals did not always come from planet Earth. They may have opened into the desolate vacuum of deep space! Too many people miscalculated their chances and were wiped from reality. If they managed to catch a portal at all.

The woman lay in the grass as she got her bearings. It was always confusing to come into the Astral Plane unprepared. She looked around. There weren’t many people around. After all, the Astral Plane was infinite, and although it contained all the souls who had ever lived, there was still infinite space for them to occupy. There were clusters though. It was to be expected that certain souls would form communities. They could not escape the psychology of their consciousness.

The dark buzzsaw of the heavens continued to drone overhead. That was a feature of the Astral Plane: this constant presence of the deep bass groan. It was not disruptive. On the contrary, it was a soothing, comforting thing: pitched to a register to provide comfort and familiarity. The Astral Plane was a throbbing wall of sound, an undulating waveform that provided the rhythm of the universe.

Everyone loved it eventually. Those who tried to escape through the periodic portals simply had not spent enough time here.

There was no source of light. Instead everything remained evenly lit by something that seemed to have its own internal source of energy. Imagine a quiet landscape painting. Now imagine the same painting without the sun. It’s not that hard, is it? It’s the same with the Astral Plane. One of the best things about this interesting space is the unlimited kinds of leisure available. There really was only one: walking. But on the Astral Plane, everything converges on the infinite. So not only are you never bored, but your concept of boredom seems trite and contrived. Boredom is a luxury that the entitled possess. One does not go without in this dimension, but one is also owed nothing. So no one is bored. See? Nothing needs to make sense.

You might be asking yourself, “What the fuck am I reading?” But you need to remember such a thought is the product of reality and NOT OF THE ASTRAL PLANE. This concludes the introduction to the rest of your existence. After we have determined a sufficiently accurate understanding of the Astral Plane is in your mind, a portal will appear. You may think you have a time limit but you actually do not. You have a lot of time to decide when you want to enter our realm, so long as you understand you must do it eventually.