You wake from a dream, and you listen. The desert, at first, is silent. A hummingbird lands on a cactus flower, its fluffy yellow blossoms pushing out from thorny skin. Here, it's only you, the rock-laden earth, the birds, and the agave, who at once cling tightly to the soil and reach their thin arms up towards the sun. Then it begins. The music. Quiet at first, it flows through dry air, beckoning you towards it–a steady beat, like breath. You stand and begin to walk. To where, you don’t yet know. Slowly, the brown earth takes on a gentle sheen. The temperature drops, the air moistens. Cactuses begin to brighten, their thick stalks slouch into long, young shoots. Grasses sprout at your feet, softening the ground as you walk. The sun reflects off water flowing in the distance. A river. The music grows louder yet. It mingles with the sound of the water. You touch your own hand. Are you awake, or still dreaming? Something golden pierces the horizon ahead. It's moving towards you. You are no longer walking, you are being carried. The music, you realize, is someone singing. The earth sings along. A choir. You open your mouth and join. She approaches you. Her white robe dances in the breeze. Her crown seems to float above her head. Her scepter catches the sunlight. She takes your hand. She leads you. Trees rise up around you, a canopy of color, of sound. Inside her palace, the pillars are perfect white marble. The floor a deep black onyx. She sits you in a white chair, places a crystal glass in your hand, and beckons you to take a sip. Smooth, rich, earthy. Notes of honey and vanilla fill your mouth. She asks you who you are. She asks you where you come from. You cannot answer. You hold the flavor on your tongue. You say you no longer know. You are tired. You close your eyes. You open your eyes. You close your eyes. Dark. Light. Gold.

Welcome to the Queendom.