"Long extending, ever rotating yellow arms skew off into the infinite, wrapped in textures slithering with every swirl. Colors peel apart to reveal additional frequencies, with watery smacking noises echoing off of each crystalizing element. A sense of familiarity washes over, yet the landscape is so foreign. "The gang's all here" you say to yourself, somehow knowing the warmth of this sensed presence. The frequencies begin to intensify as they begin to collapse upon themselves in the horizon, and in its implosion drags the arms down with it. The melding of light and arms becomes intensely bright, only to fade into a black fuzz that can be felt in the fingertips that you just now remembered you have. The feeling begins to slip away, but you talk out loud to yourself to process the burdening information jolting between synapses, and then you make a sandwich."