you eventually woke up in a dilapidated cellar, sunlight streaking through the door. 

attempting to recollect, you could only remember your love of theater.

you really, really enjoyed theater.

stepping over the crimson pile of an unknown, rotten smelling substance swarmed with ants and flies, you exited the cellar.

outside was white. it hurt to look at.

soon enough your feet touched civilized ground, and you sat on a curb.

after several hours of sitting, motionless, a man walked up to you, telling of an offer for housing in exchange for simple work.

you took the offer, and delighted in the prospect of creating art.