I am in stark, gray room. It is devoid of all furnishings or detail, except for a gray marble bench near one end. The temperature is warm, yet oddly draining due to the thermal properties of the room and its furnishing. Light comes in from the ceiling, possibly fluorescent. A faint humming can be heard.
The forest is filled with spring beech trees, as you might find in the Danish countryside. Their leaves are bright green. Their trunks are dark brown. And the light filtering down lends a soft yet intense green light to everything. It is stunning in its effect.
The path is of medium width, sufficient to allow the passage of two people passing each other, if they step slightly to the side. There are no visible footprints, however.
The path cuts through a cleft in a small hillock, emptying out to the sea like a tributary of some stream. The water is choppy, with small white caps, probably stirred up by the heavy wind coming off the ocean.
After swimming the ocean and throwing myself upon the beach on the other side, I gaze through tired eyes at a golden chalice. Simple in its construction, it is elegant yet bold. Perhaps it is a religious artifact.
There is no drinking water nearby, so I leave the cup empty. Perhaps it can be returned to its rightful owner. Picking up the chalice, I spot a key. It is an old, iron key. Perhaps it unlocks a treasure chest hidden by local pirates.