"Fuck The Wizard of Oz."

Professor Valentine's loud assertion somehow echoed off the classroom's carpeted walls. His references to Ingmar Bergman and Federico Fellini had been met with an ignorant reaction, and he wasn't happy about it.

Amused by the angry statement, the class burst into laughter. Understanding the problem, I did not. Instead, I turned my vapid gaze from the upper corner of the room, where it had boredly rested for most of the past hour, towards the instuctor. Its journey was very briefly interrupted.

I was not a stranger to my gaze meeting with this other one, but it was different this time. My eyeline passed through hers for a fraction of a second, but that tiny droplet of time burned. Each time before, my vision had met only withdrawal, but this time, the piercing gaze was sustained as my sight passed it by.

The moment jarred open a door, and out of it poured great tablets of pale yellow. They formed a path between it and myself, and the door itself beckoned. I ignored it, and simply remained in my great green plain, alone, that one moment etched upon my mind by black, perfectly elliptic blades.