Trees are usually kind of a no-go. This is weird, though, all these carefully trimmed squat bushes all lined up, nice and neat and colorful. The air is thick with sweet-smelling pollen, almost cloyingly so. Tim has to try not to gag.

After a few minutes of terse inspection of the environment, cautiously prodding the dense, springy brush and leaping back warily at the first hint of anything that could be a danger sign, Tim has to reluctantly, bemusedly concede that this is exactly what it impossibly appears to be: a nice dream.

Maybe that's not weird, though. His first dream was pretty okay, after all. Aside from how he'd managed to convince himself that the Jay he was talking to was purely hallucinatory. Yeah, that kind of put a damper on the whole thing.

Tim's hands chase up and down his arms as he half-hugs himself, darting nervous looks at the artfully arranged flowers and trimmed foliage. He feels like it might be some kind of fancy rich person garden, maybe, but he's never known what those really looked like. He's never been to one.

Regardless, he's not really sure he likes the look of it, or even the feel of it. Too many thick-packed leaves surrounding him. No sign of an exit.

Guess it's gonna be his job to find one.

He sets off for the nearest gap in the bushes, ducking beneath the overarching limbs. Maybe if there's a weak spot or a dying bit of greenery somewhere - if he could just get through -