You open the gray door. As you walk for hours—days—your vision begins to fade, then the world goes black. You wake up in your bed. It’s only been a few hours since you fell asleep, even though you were in the Underworld for days. You died of dehydration. Your tongue is stuck to the roof of your mouth. You drag yourself to the bathroom, knees week, and let the cold water run over your mouth. Your hands shake as you turn the tap off.
Tomorrow you can look forward to descending again and being scared and trapped until the second you die. Joy.
What will you do tomorrow night?