The air was electrified. Rather, what was, was electric. It was moving. It was spinning, always spinning. There were spirals, and spirals of spirals. The electric wasn't yellow, nor blue, as expected, it was purple. The faintest purple. But he could see it. O'ryan could see the faint purple static of a hand. Not a human hand, or hand of any particular image but the underpinning of 'hand' itself. The hand was the user. The hand gripped and manipulated. The hand was involved. When a person says they are the hand of god, this figurative speech, this purple hand was that figurative hand. The sight of this faint purple hand was contrasted by the dark speckled background of black space. He felt comforted by this. Space, though vast and unknown, was familiar to him. He understood space, or thought he did. While he saw the hand and knew the hand, he did not understand the hand.
The hand was involved with something else, as any decent hand would be, he figured. There was a fainter set of colors. Their faintness made the faint purple hand seem solid by comparison. Green waves, blue dots, and pink tones covered the scene of one dull, ugly, mean floor. O'ryan was glad he wasn't touching that floor. It stank of bliss. He hated it and feared it; like one may consider heroin, it was a terrifying bliss. But the smell wasn't so bad this high up. The green waves went down to that putrid floor, they spun around in cords that reminded O'ryan of imaginary seaweed. The base of the green was filled with gray. As they spun, the gray dispersed outward from the stem, until there was no gray remaining in the line. The spiral weed was clean, it smelled clean. It was delicate and preferable.
The hand was collecting them. It would touch them, and touch the stem, severing it from the floor. The hand held many of them. O'ryan watched the hand harvest the object that he was observing, and spoke out.
"Hey, I was smelling that!"
O'ryan immediately regretted this action, as the hand was just a hand, and the being had ears, and other limbs. He noticed it notice him. He became woefully aware of how little he knew of where he was, and what was going on. He turned away from the hand to flee. Instead of running, he was stunned by a new sight, the moon. The moon was utterly massive. The moon was crashing into the earth. O'ryan panicked. He turned around to flee from the moon, but met more of the purple being. It was surrounded by bizarre collections of electric weaves of indiscernible form, but he did recognize, in the center, one vivid eye.
"No. No. No." He chanted.
He turned back around, terror visited him and sweat streaked down his brow. He was breathing heavily. He looked around but saw nothing to hide in. He trembled, and heaved, feeling paralyzed. But paradoxically, the more he trembled, the dimmer the world became. He started to understand that he was leaving. He started to feel safe. He looked away from the disturbing eye, and saw a strange parallel. There was another eye in the sky, how had he not seen it before? He knew this eye. This was Jupiter's eye. "Ah." he sighed, as the world faded away. "That's not the moon-."