I was in a forest meadow swamp. The land was flooded. I was with many friends and we were exploring. There were short rolling hills, moist like moss, but covered in soft grass that flowed gently in the wind. The grass was as though it were painted, in shades of yellow flowing into red, tall and swaying in rhythm. Golden light flooded from above. It was all in perfect focus, and felt hyper real. It was staggeringly beautiful. We ran into someone having a staring contest with a frog and contemplated how cute frogs were. Its eyes were pitch dark, and yet the way the light shone off them it was captivating. The frog was caught and perched nervously upon the hand of the starer before flinging itself far away into the water. It immediately swam back to our island as it was the only land easily reached. The frog seemed sheepish as it crawled back up, and avoided us.

There was a massive gale of wind that swept the land and made the grass quiver. Many small white puffs of plant material whooshed by. People began taking photos and I realized I wanted one, but requested a friend to take one of me as my camera couldn't capture the depth of this strange place's color well. I sat posed upon a ridge and had my picture taken.